


Shadowplay

by syredronning



Series: Draws [11]
Category: Star Trek (2009), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Bullying, Dark Agenda, Drugs, F/F, F/M, Kinky, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Rape/Non-con References, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-04
Updated: 2010-11-12
Packaged: 2017-10-13 01:40:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 83,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syredronning/pseuds/syredronning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their vacation with their men, many things change for Pike and Dael. He thinks he's ready for the new deal, but there may be more players than he realizes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: This is part XI of Draws and the direct sequel to "Four Square".
> 
> Thanks for the wonderful beta and helpful comments go to merisunshine36 (whose analysis rescued my wrangled plots), izzyfics and shagungu! All remaining flaws are solely mine.
> 
> I decided not to use the archive warnings because although the story is intense at times, most critical events are either only mentioned or not written very detailed. See the additional tags for warnings.

He dreams about something sweet and hot that he doesn't remember the second he opens his eyes, but the smile on his lips lingers as he curls, still half-asleep, around the body at his side, burying his nose into short hair that still smells of beach and sunlight. Slides his hand around a tiny waist and up her chest, caressing a soft nipple on the way before drifting down again.

There's a hitch in her breathing, then a yawn stifled by the pillow. Her hair tickles his nose as she moves into his touch, unfolding to his fingers that dip deeper, boldly going because he's learned he's welcome, even now when she's still mostly in the grasp of her own dreams. He doesn't know if they're sweet but he hopes it for her and maybe one day he'll manage to slip into them just as he slips into her body, effortless and organic. His moves are careful, a gentle rhythm that allows them to wake up slowly, the muscles in his legs and calf uncurling as they roll on, finally gathering speed. His lips glide along her shoulder, a hint of teeth and tongue as he nibbles her neck, setting a counterpoint to the fingers on her clit.

There's something adorably, unusually pliant in her this morning, something offering and inviting, and a surge of love runs through him, knowing that they've come this far, giving and taking without guilt and concern about the world around them. He adores her strength and determination that makes her push forward no matter how much adversity she's facing, and now he's learning to adore the part of her that wants a break for a moment. That part that wants to be held and claimed by him, that offers with so little reservation, making her open up and blossom under his caresses, sweet petals of youth. He dances with her, rides the wave of her arousal until it's his own, gives it back to her until they're one body, one soul, so wonderful, so complete, so unbelievably perfect.

Then it's over and they return to reality, her hand on his leg stroking slowly, airily, while summer rain starts outside, tiny drops hitting the sound-proof window. He opens it a little with a voice-order, but the incoming air is dusty and stale and what's been a perfect start of the day is slowly shifting as thoughts crawl in, unwelcome guests that come to stay. About to draw away, he stops as she whispers,

 _"And the rain falls, green as your blood, sweet as mine;  
Honor made us choose and die; a sacrifice of birds."  
_  
"Huh?"

"Just something out of a well-known Romulan poem." Dael runs her fingertips along his hand, her face still mostly buried in the pillow.

"I hope it's okay when I'm not particularly fond of this image?" Pike mutters and leans over her, curving his palm around her cheek to make her look at him. "I've never been one to wax poetic but if I were, I'd cite something better fitting to gorgeous wake-up sex."

"It's actually a great love story but like most Romulan poems, it ends tragically." Her lips are a sweet red, her tattoos soft-edged on flushed skin, but her gaze is solemn, and something about her suddenly makes him feel insecure.

"Did I do anything wrong?" he asks concerned. "If I did —"

"No," she hastens to reply. "No. Just had a strange dream. I'm glad you woke me up." She captures his hand and places a kiss onto its palm before claiming his mouth, quickly chasing away his worries.

*

The good start of the Monday stays with him for a while, knowing that she's off to a class she likes, and having a message in his box from their men that they're only five hours away from the _Enterprise_ and that they'd try to call them in a day or two. The coffee machine on his floor aims to please him with a perfect double espresso and the offices are still empty, leaving him time to deal with the pile of messages that have come in since he'd last been here, which had been the day of the big confrontation with Jim. He quickly moves on to some nicer memories, daydreaming a little while sorting the messages in the quadrant of important and urgent, forwarding anything that is neither to his assistant.

"Good morning, Chris," someone says, throwing Pike out of his concentration.

 _Why the hell can't the old man knock on doors like everyone else?  
_  
"Good morning, Heihachiro," he says and pushes a little away from his console to focus on his early visitor.

Nogura nods, walking into the room. "Glad to have you back. I hope you enjoyed your vacation."

"I enjoyed it more than I can say. Thanks for keeping them on Earth a little longer. We really appreciated it," Pike says heartfelt. There's a tiny itch on Nogura's face, something changing in the atmosphere as Nogura spreads one hand flat on the desk.

"I don't know how to start —" the man says slowly, before blurting out, by his standards — "I've always supported you although I wasn't in favor of the development between you and cadet Dael, but did you have to go as far as to enter them all as partners in your personal files? You realize that this will be a media feast once they find out, and they will."

"We knew what we were doing," Pike states coolly, a little surprised by the outbreak. "It's the logical thing to do when a relationship is serious. Is that a problem for you?"

"You had your big outing at Barnett's funeral, leaving little to guess about your relationship to the three. Couldn't that be enough? These partner entries for all of you — they make it look as if _all_ of you sleep with each other," Nogura says.

Pike stares at him. "And?"

He can see Nogura's face flushing in a way he'd never seen before, realization and embarrassment inseparably mingled. No doubt Nogura has images of group orgies in mind now, and some of them might not be far from the truth.

"Is that all?" Pike asks.

With effort, Nogura finds his voice again. "Yes. See you at the meeting later."

Pike watches him leave, almost feeling a bit of pity for his shocked superior, but _what the hell_ , they're not the first foursome in the history of mankind.

*

The day moves on quickly due to several meetings including a lengthy one of the core task force, and they take a late break at 1400 for lunch. Pike invites Esteban to come with him; now that they would be spending a considerable amount of time together over the _Pathfinder_ refit, he'd like to get to know him better. His plan is slightly disrupted, though, as they walk over the academy grounds and Pike notices Dael within a group of students. At first he thinks it's just the dispersing crowd from her class but there's something in her stance that signals tension, something in the circle around her that's too dense to be good.

He doesn't know what's up, but he's got Kirk's voice in his ears, demanding that he should fucking do something and not just look away, so he slips a " _be right back_ " to Esteban before marching right into the group, parting the six male and two female cadets like Moses did the Red Sea.

"Cadet — is there a problem?" he asks when he stops in front of Dael, his eyes darting left and right, sorting the group into _leaders_ and _followers_.

"No, sir," Dael says stiffly, her grip white-knuckled on her bag. He expected no other answer.

"Good. I hope you're free for lunch, because I'd like you to meet Captain Esteban," he says. "Come with me." It's a mix of order and obvious personal invitation, and there's an angry glitter in her eyes but she can't disobey him openly. Then he focuses on what he thinks is the main agitator, a slim guy with short red hair who is unable to hide his scowl. "What's your name, Cadet?"

"Johanson — sir," the young man says, the _sir_ almost an afterthought, forced out because there's no way to ignore Pike's stripes.

"What's your dream?"

The cadet makes a double-take. "Sir?"

"Where do you want to get posted after the academy?"

"On the _Enterprise_ — like everyone." Johanson's face brightens as he says the ship's name.

"Then you better read up the code of conduct in Starfleet, because Captain Kirk stands for personal integrity and tolerance. You're up for meeting his standards?"

The young man's cheek flush and his hands curl as Pike's statement hits the target. "I will strive to meet them, sir," he answers stiffly.

"Good." Pike nods, then turns to Dael. "Let's go." They walk out of the circle that has already thinned out, the remaining cadets averting his eyes as he looks over them.

"Did you have to do that?" Dael murmurs sharply after a few steps.

"Yes," Pike says without qualms. He's rather sure that the cadets will think twice now about harassing Dael, and consider their careers instead, which would strongly suffer from a reprimand of _Conduct Unbecoming_ in their personal files. Not to mention Pike using his rank and influence to put obstacles in their ways. It's something he wouldn't do but these cadets wouldn't know that.

 _Let them live in fear of the mighty admiral_ , he thinks a little sardonically.

Dael falls into an annoyed silence, only breaking it to greet Esteban whom she'd already been introduced to at Barnett's funeral. The captain doesn't seem too happy about her joining them for lunch either, and so Pike ends up between two rather stiff people who do their best to focus solely on the food. The second Dael is done with eating, most of her meal still untouched, she asks for permission to leave, and he lets her go. Watching her stick-thin figure glide through the tables and chairs in close to a flight, he catches Esteban's gaze on him.

"Anything to say, Captain?" Pike asks. There's something in the air, much like with Nogura this morning, and he wants it out in the light, hoping it would clear the atmosphere between them.

"Permission to speak freely?" the man asks.

Pike puts down his cutlery and leans back in his chair, feeling his command persona get into gear. This doesn't feel much different than all these occasions when a first officer pulled him aside in the heat of a battle, asking for that permission before throwing concerns or outright anger into his face. Pike had irritated quite a few officers throughout his career, and it seems he's back to it. "Go ahead."

"It is not my place to criticize your relationship with a much younger cadet, which is obviously tolerated by Starfleet," Esteban says stiffly. "But that you pull her into your affair with Kirk is… I don't know what to call it."

 _So the news is already all over headquarters.  
_  
"I don't have to explain any of our relationship details to you," Pike says controlled. "But rest assured that it's been her own choice to get involved."

"If you say so," Esteban says, the scathing note in his words showing his disbelief. "You want to know why I'm so critical of Kirk? Years ago a friend of mine was involved with him. It didn't end well for her. Of course, _he_ didn't think he was in any way responsible. After all, he'd made it clear from the beginning that she was just a convenience fuck to him."

Now the statement from Esteban when meeting Kirk first makes sense — _I heard stories about you_ \- and not in a good way.

"For all that I know of Kirk," Pike says slowly, bottling down his impulse to defend his lover in sharp words, "he'd never use the expression _convenience fuck_. Sex is about personal connection for him, and if he had something with your friend, it was definitely more than just a fuck."

"I don't expect anything else from you but excuses for him," Esteban says darkly. "But if he ever approached _my_ partner, I'd know what to do, and inviting him into our bed would be the very last thing."

"Enough, Captain," Pike states in his authoritative voice, then takes some of the sharpness back by adding, "Thank you for being open with me. Now that we know where we stand, do you think this will influence our working relationship?"

"I loved working with you on our first Borg mission. Thought you were one of the people of integrity in the admiralty." Esteban's gaze briefly sweeps down before meeting Pike's eyes again. "My opinion has changed. Your private relationships and the way you changed your opinion about how we should handle the Borg threat… I can't look at you the way I once did."

Pike nods, having expected this statement. It brings a bitter taste to his tongue, this feeling of having disappointed someone just by being the person he is. He stands by his relationship with his lovers, doesn't regret a thing about the last few months, but there are moments in which he wishes he wouldn't be forced to make that theme a battlefield again and again.

"The _Pathfinder_ is the ship that will go out there, and you are her designated captain," Pike says. "I doubt Nogura would want to change that, so we will have to keep working together for the near future."

"I know," Esteban says, clearly resigned to the unavoidable. "I think I'll be able to handle it." _Are you?_ The unvoiced question vibrates underneath.

"Fine," Pike states coolly without picking up the gauntlet. "See you tomorrow, Captain."

*

When he comes home, he's not really surprised when Dael sits ramrod straight on the kitchen table with a considerable frown on her face. He throws her a brief _hello_ before walking into the bedroom to change. He'd played out the rank card today already, no need to repeat that within their own walls, so he changes into a black shirt and an old pair of comfy jeans, his knee protectors underneath.

The way Dael looks at him when he walks into the kitchen bears nothing good. There is a bowl of salad on the table and he suddenly has a vivid scene in front of his eyes, of her brutally slaughtering innocent cucumbers with the long knife that's still on the sideboard.

"Still angry with me?" Pike says, carefully keeping the slight amusement he feels under wraps, as it surely wouldn't be appreciated.

"Yes," Dael says. Her arms are on the table, tightly laced in front of her chest with hands curled to fists. It looks as if her anger had time to smolder all afternoon. "I thought we had agreed that we'd not interfere with each other's life in Starfleet. Now they all think that I'm going home whining about other cadets. I want to succeed on my terms. I don't need your protection."

"You're right —" he starts, and there's a sparkle of triumph amidst her irritation —"and you're wrong." Her brows draw together at this.

"You told me you want to be allowed to need me. I got that, and I accepted it."

Dael interrupts him. "I didn't say I needed you today. You just walked right in without asking me —"

"Please — let me make my case, Dael," Pike states.

She tightly presses her lips together.

"If you were still my protégée, I would've busted that group too. It's what mentors are for, handling things that get out of control. And they've been out of control for a while, haven't they?" She frowns but doesn't deny it. "The academy tries to keep harassment between students under control, but like all institutions, sometimes it fails. What's been happening to you isn't normal, Dael, and since it's developed out of control, it's the job of every superior to reign these cadets in. What do you think will happen to them and their like if they carry their destructive habits onto the ships? Do you think Jim would accept that kind of behavior on the _Enterprise_?"

She slowly shakes her head. "No."

"Right. And if he acts against such behavior, it's his right _and_ his duty. He'd never tell a victim of harassment that he or she should fight for themselves, because it's not just between a few people — it's like cancer to a group. A violation of trust, and I can tell you, ships only work on trust, and once crew members stop trusting each other, the ship is doomed." He slowly sees it sink in, that this isn't just between her and a few xenophobic-or-whatever cadets, but that it's got a much larger dimension, the potential to ruin the very foundation of Starfleet.

"I get it," she says at last. "But you didn't just act as officer. The way you invited me to lunch… you issued an order to me as your partner."

"Yes," Pike admits. "Seemed the easiest thing to do, to both get you out and make even the most stupid cadet understand that I stand by you."

She rolls her eyes. "They know that we're together. It's not like it's a secret."

"But today, they've gotten the proof, in sound and vision." Pike shrugs. "I like my partners to be happy and secure. If that requires me to play the big bad wolf for some idiots, fine by me."

Dael props up her head on one outstretched palm with a sigh. "I still didn't like it."

"Nobody likes to learn that there are things he can't solve all by himself. Nobody likes to find out that he or she is weak in some situation." He cautiously reaches out across the table, and she takes his hand. "Don't worry, I won't get overprotective now. But there are things I won't let slide in the future, and mobbing at the academy is high on the list. No matter if the target is you or anyone else. I called McGovern this afternoon —"

"My Advanced Flight instructor?"

"The same, and after I've made it clear that I'm not going to bring up charges, only wanted to make sure that the bullying would be addressed properly in the future, he admitted that he'd known about it for a while but didn't act accordingly because he didn't want to make it look as if he treated you favorably. Which resulted in you being treated unfairly. After things obviously boiled up during AF II, he said he was already determined to tackle the problem."

Dael looks disbelieving. "He never did a thing, always looked the other way."

"He's sorry for it."

"Fuck him."

Pike nods. "Yes. But instructors have a life and past too. He lost his wife in the Narada incident, had to keep going with two small children. Having you in his class was a challenge to him."

"Not one he was up for," Dael says darkly. Pike can't disagree.

"What happened in AFII?" he asks. "The message you sent me made me want to call the psychiatric emergency hotline - which doesn't match with what I've heard from McGovern, that it's been your best class ever. You _fucking_ handed the guys their _asses_. You beat them out of the sky."

"Yes, I did," Dael agrees, but doesn't look the least bit victorious. "I just —"

"What?"

She pulls away, tightly lacing her arms around herself. "It's been a dark place."

"Hmm?"

"The mood I've been — it's been a dark place. I don't like that place. There's nothing outside of myself, nothing I care about but my own survival."

"But it's obviously also a place of power."

Dael closes her eyes, rubbing her forehead with one hand. "It's all or nothing. I can't just tap into the potential without submerging into it." She inhales deeply. "It's the place where I could kill. Destroy others without a single thought, without thinking of the consequences."

"You make yourself sound like a psychopath, but I don't think you are one. Starfleet doesn't think that."

"Last time I was in that mood, I —" She stops.

"What?" Pike asks, adding, as he sees her hesitation, "Please, Dael. Tell me."

She laughs without mirth. "Remember the time in your club, the bartenders talking about a scene? The night I broke up with Charlie, we were out. She was drunk, treated me like shit, insulted you all the time - and I lost it. I topped her, ran over half her limits, had her crying on the dance floor while kicking her, literally. She whined when I walked away and came after me because for her it had been the most fantastic scene of her life and she was begging me to keep her… and I left and threw up for an hour. I never hated myself as much as on that evening. Everyone who watched thought it had been a fabulous game, but I knew it wasn't. While it was going on, I was that cold, destructive person. I wanted to hurt her and I felt nothing but satisfaction when she was down on the ground." Dael gets up, walking back and forth in the kitchen in tangible distress. "That's me, Christopher. A sad girl who's the perfect victim unless she loses it, and then she's the perfect offender. There's nothing in between."

Pike leans back in his chair, taking a few breaths because the atmosphere is dense enough to cut. What he says next is crucial, and he takes his time to formulate a response.

"Jim knows that story, doesn't he?"

She halts her steps and gives him a wary gaze. "Yes."

"And what did he say?"

She looks away, hands protectively splayed on her stomach. "That he knows that place. That I'll learn to use it over time. Summon the strength that's in it without losing the empathy for others." Dael glances at him. "I don't know. I'm not like Jim. He's so special…"

Pike smiles. "He told you how I recruited him, back then?"

"A little."

"I picked him up in a bar where he'd gotten into a fight with my cadets. In fact, Jim had a history of getting into fights. He was a juvenile offender with a big mouth, on the crossroad between becoming a criminal or doing something worthwhile with his life and incredible gifts. I dared him but I didn't think it would work. When he joined Starfleet, I knew he would be a piece of work. Called him _obnoxious little shit_ in my head more times than I can count." Dael smiles at this, and Pike relaxes a fraction. He gets up and walks to her, putting his hands on her shoulders from behind.

"How do you think I could sit in the captain's chair for twenty years if I didn't know the same dark place?" he says quietly. "As captain, the fate of hundreds of people lies in your hand. Your highest goal is to bring them all home but you never succeed. There are briefings when you've got to look a good man or woman in the eye and send them out to certain death. There are moments in battles when your only choice is to sacrifice ten or a hundred people, one ship or four. And sometimes you need to be brutal - so brutal that later you look into the mirror and hate yourself for what you had to do. It is a dark place, but it's the place a CO needs to know and work with. The trick is to be able to walk out of it again because you're right, it's not a good place to live in."

There's a shiver running through her, and she tilts her head to the right, nudging his hand with her cheek.

"I agree with Jim — you'll learn to handle it. Trust yourself, Dael. That scene with Charlie might've been bad, but you didn't harm her."

"Only by chance —"

"No. You could've harmed her but you didn't. You still played safe. And you didn't kill any cadets either. It's all been simulated fights, even though they felt terribly real, and you tapped into your biggest strength and won. Right?"

"Right," she agrees, a little choked.

He buries his nose in her hair, caressing her neck. "Trust in the strength within you, because you wouldn't be here today if you weren't strong. Not alive, not on Earth, not with me."

For a moment, she doesn't say a thing. "You're incredible," she mutters eventually, and turns in his arms. "Thank you." She tightly embraces him, and he holds her for a while.

"What about eating?" he says at last, and they unlace and turn to the salad.

"Not sure it's edible," Dael admits. "I've largely been somewhere else with my thoughts."

Pike tests it and true to her words, the dressing is bitter and too salted. He shrugs as he puts down the fork. "Let's go out. You and me and our favorite Italian."

"Good." Leaving the ruined experiment behind, they walk to the restaurant, the growing shadows a welcome cover for the kisses they exchange on the way in the need to reconnect.

*

They manage a real-time connection with the _Enterprise_ men on Wednesday at three fucking forty in the morning, and it's both a source of happiness and of a quiet ache. While it's great to know they arrived safely, seeing their faces and hearing their voices also drives home the point that they won't be able to meet in person for months, maybe years. In the past, Pike had somehow assumed that it would get easier with time but the way it's developing now, with rare meetings only making their connection so much stronger, it's just more painful.

Having Dael with him is the one thing that saves him. Maybe, if she hadn't been, he would've been weak and would've accepted McCoy's decision to remain on Earth. Pike doesn't like to think he would have betrayed Jim like that but Leonard had become more than special to him, their relationship moving on to an emotional intensity he'd never had with anybody… not even with Dael.

The call is over much sooner than he had expected, and leaves him maudlin and restless. He knows Dael picks up his mood but she leaves him be for a while as he pretends to be unable to sleep and deals with a few 'fleet messages instead. It's already five o'clock when she comes back to the office, curling her fingers into his hair. "Come to bed."

"I'm not tired," he says, instantly belying his words with a yawn.

"I know what you need," she whispers in his ear. "Come with me."

He looks up at her. "Dael —"

"Come on."

The lights in the bedroom are low, only a few spotlights illuminating the corners. She directs him into the middle of the bed, and crawls over him for a kiss. His hands run up her sides out of their own volition, but there's no sexual spark in it.

He sighs. "Dael, please, I'm not in the mood."

"Close your eyes and relax," she says and moves away. Realizing that she won't give in — and considering that most times he'd followed her ideas, it'd been good - he gives in. She starts with massage, distributing rather odorless oil on his skin, her touches quickly moving from his chest down between his legs. Closing one hand around his soft member, she strokes him gently, and it doesn't take long before he gets hard, though it's still much more physical than mental.

When her fingers slip deeper down his crack, he's resistant. "I want you to think of him," she says quietly, rubbing a fingertip over his ring muscle. "Imagine he's here, doing this to you."

"This won't work," Pike says.

"It will. I want you to think of him. Don't feel guilty about it."

"I don't feel guilty," Pike states and rolls to the side. "I'm just not in the mood." Because he's stupidly sad from longing and it's neither her fault nor something she can fix.

With a frustrated groan, Dael leans over him. "I know that you felt guilty back then when we tried fucking with me on top. You started thinking of Leonard and stopped because you thought it's not okay. It _is_ okay for me, Christopher. I want to fuck you, deep and long and hard, just as he would, and I want you to think of him and have a good time."

Pike shakes his head, torn between laughter and frustration. "It's not that easy, Dael —"

"Why not?" she asks challenging.

"I can't just switch on that feeling."

"You don't want to."

He sits up, pulling farther away from her. "Maybe not. What I've got with you and what I've got with him just doesn't match, okay? It's like two separated worlds."

"Only in your head," she says.

"In this case, _in my head_ is all that counts."

Her shoulders sag, the playfulness and energy she'd just showed wiped away by his sharp statement, and he instantly regrets his words.

"I'm sorry, Dael," he rasps. "But I just… I don't work like that. At least not in the middle of the night when I'm tired and unhappy, and no matter how good your intentions are, it's not helping right now."

"I see," she states, all wounded soul. She gets up from the bed. "Guess it's better not to get on your nerves anymore for tonight. I'll sleep in my own room."

He briefly closes his eyes, wondering what the hell is going on and if they're really going to have a serious relationship crisis over this. "Stay, damn it."

"Don't order me around," Dael snaps, already halfway to the door.

"Okay." He gets up, pulling the last shreds of his control together because he's really damn tired and emotionally sore by now. "Please, don't leave. I don't know why that's been so important to you right now, and I'm sorry that I can't play along, but please, stay with me and don't make this night any worse than it already is."

And then he looks into her eyes that look so damn sad and he suddenly understands, _yes indeed_ , a shit night for them both because why should he be the only one missing someone here?

"Fuck, come here, Dael," he mutters and opens his arms, and she slips into his embrace with a doleful sigh. "You miss Jim, do you?"

"Yes," she whispers, her body trembling under his palms. "I miss him a lot, and you didn't come to bed and I felt so alone…"

"I'm terribly sorry."

"I didn't want you to be so sad. I thought I could fix it, fix myself…"

"You know, at another time, it might well work." He cradles her, tousling her hair. "We were both stupid. It's okay to miss our guys, and we're both allowed to be open about it."

She looks up with shining eyes. "Yes. And I'd really like to do that for you. With you. You know…"

"Yeah." Pike smiles. He's rather sure she'd taken a lot of inspiration from their joined vacation, and that if she fucked him again, it would feel a lot better than last time. "Come on, let's sleep."

They curl around each other, legs laced, hands touching, and sink into an exhausted nap for the one hour they've left.

*

The question of who is going to be Barnett's successor is still open, and various names circulate in the grapevine. For once, though, Pike is out of the loop, as Nogura doesn't come by his office for chats anymore like he'd done for the past year.

Pike's feelings about this change are mixed. On a personal level, he's surprised and a little concerned that just putting their four names onto an internal form would change Nogura's opinion about him, and what that might mean for Kirk's career. On the 'fleet level, though, too many had seen him as the old man's crown-prince and that's been a position Pike had never strived for. He could live with others being in Nogura's spotlight, if that meant that Nogura would stop interfering with his relationships.

*

 _Really, a damn candy heart_ , Pike thinks as he walks into his home office on Friday night, as usual both touched and a little embarrassed when he sees the item on the shelf. Touched because it's something that had been waiting for Dael and him when they'd gotten home the day they'd said goodbye to their men; embarrassed because it sits next to the kitschy teddy bear with the little red heart, adding to a display one might suspect of belonging to some teenager, not an aging admiral. The teddy makes him think of Jim's shirt, and he can't remember where it has gone but he definitely remembers that his own t-shirt is still out on the _Enterprise_ , in a silent agreement that it is an eternal loan and promise that Jim would always bring Leonard and himself safely back to Earth.

Putting the dress coat away, he pours himself a tiny drink and then sits down in front of the screen, his own thoughtful face mirrored back at him. He'd wanted Dael to join him today; it would've been her first official reception at his side in a 'fleet context except for the funeral, but aside from Dael's remaining obligation to Arissa, Nogura had been against it, for this and that reason.

 _Next time_ , the old man had said. Pike would remind him of that very soon.

He takes his drink over to the bedroom. It's empty because it's Friday, but for the last time; Dael hadn't been able to cancel her shift at the club but Arissa is forewarned that she's going to drop the job.

Pike is actually relieved to know that Dael is still kind of seeing Caitleen Barnes. He'd never ask for her to break up, it's been enough to hear where her priorities lay — but Dael had promised to come home after her shift, and it's a wonderful prospect to have her all to himself tonight.

The glass is suddenly empty; he must've drunk it without realizing. A shame, because it's all he allows himself. He's fucking dutiful, the medical application on his eternally active PADD all in shiny green if he looks at it. It's never too late to try, and so he succumbs to the mile-long list of don'ts and whatnots and hours of fitness training, doing his very best to keep out of self-created health problems in the hope to still escape another week at SFM. So far his plan seems to work but it's been a mere eight days since the _Enterprise_ men had left, and Naaz keeps giving his data a very critical eye.

He just has to keep trying.

At last stripped out of everything, Pike lays down on his side of the bed, one hand reaching out to the empty spot. His mind conjures memories of wonderful strong hands and bold lips, and he revels in them for a moment.

"Hey guys — I'm thinking of you, and I hope you think of me too, once in a while," Pike whispers into the silent room before he smiles self-consciously.

Only thing worse than a pink candy heart? A man who gets up again to find his lover's t-shirt, at last curling under his cover with _go climb a mountain_ on his chest.

*

He dreams; some part of him knows it's a dream, but another wants to hold on to it, the feel of Leonard's hands on him, Leonard's lips on his cock, hot and wet. Fingers curled around the base while a tongue teases the slit, making him arch from the bed, begging for more. His hips push upwards as he buries his hands in short hair. Moans are being forced out of his throat with every licking and sucking, deep and intense, and he wants this so much, so much…

He startles as reality suddenly jumps him, the dream images clearing to become their bedroom — but the touch doesn't end, the mouth on him still working its way up and down his length.

"Dael…" escapes his lips, slight disbelief coloring her name before he groans again from her administrations. She's not much into blowjobs, or so he'd thought until this moment in which she works on his erection as if it's her favorite action ever. One hand is strong around his dick, her other nudging his balls, adding to the growing ache of an impeding orgasm.

"Oh damn." He bucks, much sooner than he wants to but too aroused and pliable to fight his body's impulses, and comes in the cooler air of the room as she pulls away, ejaculate splattering all over onto his groin. Her fingers distribute the wet spots; they dry quickly, a little sticky when he touches them by impulse.

"Dael… how come?" he asks as she climbs up to kneel next to him. She's still in one of her leather club outfits, eyes surrounded by pitch-black mascara, her hair spiky and with a touch of blue glitter, the lip gloss almost gone. She looks so hot and androgynous, his first impulse is to reciprocate by sucking her dick. But when his fingers run along her groin, she's womanly flat.

She flops down on her stomach next to him, propped up on her elbows. "I got some edible lube from Arissa as parting gift." When she kisses him, he can taste it.

"Peppermint," he says.

"I've got some more, coconut, strawberry, cinnamon, and vanilla."

Pike chuckles. "Good choices, but why does she think we need that?"

"I may have told her about the honey workaround," she mutters.

At this point Pike should possibly be concerned about the level on which his love life is relayed to other people but it's obviously too late. Besides, the edible lube has lead to a fucking great blow-job so he's a little too happy to chastise its giver.

"Arissa wants you to call her as soon as possible. I sent her private ID to your desk."

"What does she want?"

Dael smiles conspiringly. "Talk to her."

Pike sighs. "Fine." He decides to switch back to his original idea. "I want to suck your cock. Very, very much." He strips out of the precious t-shirt that's tangled underneath his arms.

"Got to get it first," she says.

"Hurry." He watches her as she pulls her belt out of the cabinet, pulling her pants down just enough to put it on. Her hands caress the erect dildo as she makes the last adjustments, her fingertips ghostly white on the dark material. He licks his lips and reaches out, pulling her down and onto her back.

"Want you," he says roughly, a tiny bit conscious about the fact that wanting to suck her dick instead of licking her might not be exactly supportive of her female side, but her face is flushed, her mouth drawn into an excited smile, and there's no doubt to him that she doesn't mind his current preference. He bows his head and decidedly goes to work on this neuro-wired highlight of modern sex enhancements, deep-throating her until the dildo's sensitive glans hits the bottom of his mouth and then some, greedy and driven. She's soon whimpering, adorable noises that make him suck her even harder, teasing her with small pauses when she's too close to coming. At last she grabs his head, thrusting right up his throat, and he lets her fuck his face to her orgasm. He just loves that, always loved giving head, a definitely _active_ act for him, and being able to do that to her never stops blowing his mind a little. When she's done, he rests between her legs with his head on her right thigh for a while, his fingers drawing gentle circles on her skin, her hands massaging his scalp in return.

At last, thirst and hunger drive them out of bed. She strips out of her outfit, putting on one of her long, oversized tees, while he remains in the nude, feeling alive and sexy and only cleaning the dried semen off his stomach. "You've got a fabulous technique," he says later when they both have a cup of coffee in their hand, wondering if she'd taken a leaf out of Jim's book here.

Instead, she surprises him by saying, "I've had many chances to watch you and Leonard."

"Did you?" he says neutrally, but feels some heat rising up his neck. While it's become a frequent part of his fantasies to have her as a voyeur to their lovemaking, knowing that she's seen more than he had thought is a little strange.

"And Jim and him. It's all been so intense. So dedicated. I wanted to give you the same feeling."

"You didn't hear me complain before," he says, frowning a little.

"No, but I know you missed it. And who wouldn't?"

His frown deepens. "I don't want you to do it just for me."

Dael shakes her head with a sigh. "I wanted it, okay? I _enjoyed_ it, feeling how you came undone from it."

"All right," he relents, but a vaguely bad taste remains. It's stupid and annoying and he'd have to tackle it but for now they have to get ready to move the last of her things to his — _their_ — apartment. They shower and dress quickly, leaving the apartment fifteen minutes later.

*

When they arrive at her dorm room for the move, Caitleen and a young man, almost a teenager, are waiting for them.

"Brought my brother, hope it's alright," Caitleen says easily as if they're all best of friends, and so Pike shakes hands with Stephen Barnes.

It takes five minutes watching Stephen from the sideline to know what he's got a large but completely unrequited crush on Dael. She's treating him as if he's her own brother, and friendlier than her wayward blood brother Raol back then. There aren't many belongings left, most of her few possessions had kind of diffused into their apartment already. As usual, though, there's more left than expected and his car is quite full with four people and the luggage, all passengers with bags and things in their laps.

When they climb out and the siblings walk in front of them with full arms, Pike quietly asks Dael, "Isn't her family not supposed to know -?"

"Stephen is okay," she says. "And he knows about us."

"Which _us_?"

"Both _us_."

They hurry to follow the others. When they enter the apartment, the Barnes kids are more than impressed; with slightly open mouths they walk into it, cautious and in awe of the luxury that doesn't even register with Pike anymore. He feels strange and leaves the three to bring Dael's possessions to her room, using an incoming though unimportant message as pretense to go to his office and deal with some paperwork. It takes a while before he hears steps and the main door opening and closing.

Dael joins him minutes later, and he invitingly rolls back with the chair so that she can sit in his lap. "I hope you didn't mind too much," she says, curling one hand in his neck.

"I would have liked a little forewarning," he says. "I don't mind Caitleen knowing where we live but Stephen…" Last thing he wants is some enraged father at his door.

"Didn't you take pride in the security system of the apartment block? Nobody crossing the threshold without the gatekeeper checking?" She slips her hand under his shirt.

"Hmmm." Pike recognizes a diversion strategy when he sees it — or feels, in this case. "Speaking of which, you're now officially living here." Despite her staying with him for months, he hadn't felt comfortable making it official before, beyond a simple note to the porter's desk that she's his guest. But as of today, there's no more dorm room, and he wonders if this feels as final to her as it does to him. Resting one hand on her hips, he says, "What about hanging up some of your paintings?"

All her caresses stop. "My paintings?"

"Yes." He settles his other hand on her back.

"You only ask because Jim brought them up," she says stiffly.

"He brought them up and he was right in doing so."

She shakes her head. "No. They're not for display."

"Some of them are beautiful," Pike says, revealing that he's looked at them once.

Dael unlaces from his grip, getting up. "They're not for sharing," she states very definitely.

"Okay," Pike says, making a mental note to leave the things she doesn't want to talk about in the closet, no matter if _know-it-all-Jim_ thinks he should deal with them.

*

On Monday morning, Pike is barely settled in his office when an incoming, encrypted message from the _Enterprise_ is announced. He instantly accepts it, and seconds later, Kirk's serious face fills the screen. His lover seems to sit in his office all alone, and that's enough to make Pike concerned.

"Good morning, Jim. You're calling off schedule — anything wrong?"

"Good morning, Chris. No, everything is fine." Kirk clears his throat. "I wanted to inform you that Nogura officially offered to include the _Enterprise_ in the upcoming testing of Borg technology."

"Ah." Pike waits for the feeling of surprise but it doesn't come; subconsciously, he'd always known this to be a part of Nogura's plans. "And you will accept," he says, not a question.

"I conferred with Spock and Scotty and I just can't _not_ accept it. It would be irresponsible to refuse the upgrades that could give us considerable leverage in future confrontations," Kirk says defensively.

"It's the right decision," Pike says.

"I know it's the right decision," Kirk replies. "I just thought I'd forewarn you. I know you're not in favor of the technology…"

"Technology is just technology, and you would be a bad captain not to accept the offer." Pike smiles a little. "And as your lover, I've got a very personal interest in yours and the doc's safety." He straightens in his seat. "As for the political and strategic implications of using the Borg technology, though, _Admiral Pike_ might use his influence to ensure that Starfleet will remain focused on peace-keeping and research."

"As it is your right, sir," Kirk says, mirroring back the smile. "The good side of it is that we'll return to Earth much sooner than expected, maybe already in seven months, and the refit will keep us there for at least two."

"Wonderful. We'll be eagerly awaiting your arrival."

"Good. I need to sign off — we'll call you as soon as possible. Give our love to Dael."

"Of course. Godspeed, Jim, and take care of Leonard."

When Kirk signs off, Pike leans back in the chair. He might not like the news itself, but it's a good sign that the _Enterprise_ is included in the refit program. It will help Kirk's rising star, and that's what Pike wants for him (at least in those moments in which he's not driven by stupid envy of his young, gifted lover).

Pike shakes his head, getting a new coffee before returning to his office. As he's already sidetracked right now, he might as well deal with something else that's been on his mind.

In less than three months, Dael's first practical training cruise would start. He wasn't sure whether she'd applied anywhere, or if she might even have already been accepted. He could've asked but the timing just hadn't been right over the course of the last days.

Half an hour later, he's reasonably sure that she'd sent a few applications for ship positions, but none had been answered positively. He couldn't blame the officers who rejected her; her ratings are still firmly in the middle field and ship placements are limited and hotly contested. Even the medal she'd received for saving his life doesn't weigh in enough to give her a true chance. Determined to keep his promise of better support, Pike starts checking out ships with still open spots; he rules out ships with captains who have a reputation for being a little xenophobic and ships that had been engaged in conflicts with Romulans lately. He also rules out ships with captains or firsts he doesn't have a good gut feeling about, men and women he'd met at some time in their career and received a strange vibe.

In the end, there are only three ships left. One of them is commanded by a man who'd been Pike's navigator on a three-year mission way in the past, and Pike sends him a message, nicely formulated, not too pushy, but making his wish clear. He calms his conscience with the thought that he'd written similar messages for some of his other protégées, but it's still not quite the same and wouldn't be to an outside observer either.

*

The core task force team that engages in most meetings is small; on Earth side, Esteban, his second-in-command Tom Albers, Pike and his assistant Nicole Chambers. On Utopia Planitia, connected by viewscreen, Cho and her deputy Lieutenant-Commander Solen. When necessary, various other assistants and officers of other departments join in. Most of their work is organizing the analysis of information about the Borg and making decisions regarding the technology to be used in the refit.

Like usual in projects, the work pile is much larger than even an extended team could handle, and so they're still on the task of prioritizing all other tasks. Due to the pressing date of the _Pathfinder_ launch, the analysis work is in danger of getting pushed lower on the list, forcing Pike to defend his plan of spending at least thirty percent of his time with the analysts he'd roped in so far.

"We need more information about the Borg, otherwise we're in acute danger of flying into a trap. It's still my biggest concern that if we make a mistake, we're going to deliver an incredibly powerful technology right into the arms of a species that is better in adapting technology than any other, us included," Pike emphasizes.

"I think the data we've delivered is already analyzed to death," Esteban contradicts him. "Reviewing the test results of the new equipment and deciding which to install on the ship is more important right now."

On the screen, one of the analysts sitting next to Cho disagrees with the captain. "We've still got thirty megaflops waiting for analysis, and the robotics specialists are still working on the Borg sample MH2 and the satellites."

"We also shouldn't forget that aside from using ships for an attack, the one option you've once brought up yourself, Joe, is using a virus against them," Pike reminds Esteban. From the corner of his eyes, he can see Cho's surprise. Obviously, she hasn't yet caught up on the older material — and why should she, her focus as head of UP's newest terminal is on ship technology, not on biotechnological warfare.

"As you correctly stated back then, the use of a virus is much harder to defend in the Federation Council, sir," Esteban says stiffly.

"The virus would definitely be worth pursuing, considering that it could mean ending the war before it starts." At this point, they're all sure that there will be a conflict; the only question is what it would look like. Pike continues, "As we already are considering violating the Interstellar Convention of Space Warfare of 2244 by preemptive strikes with new, offensive weaponry, we might as well consider other options."

"We don't have time for this right now," Esteban states. "It's already been decided by the admiralty that the refit of the _Pathfinder_ is priority one."

When Pike opens his mouth to answer, Solen gently interrupts him. "Please, colleagues, let us stop here and consider what we are meeting for. This is not the time to decide alternative paths, but to prioritize the tasks for the refit that we've already listed in advance."

Despite it being Solen who stops what Pike considers an important discussion, it's Esteban that annoys him, the man who'd brought up the alternatives himself and now seems solely focused on getting into the captain's chair of the _Pathfinder_. If they agreed that the virus development would be a reasonable alternative, chances would be that Nogura would listen to them if they properly presented their findings and ideas — something Pike hadn't been able to do in the impromptu meeting when they first all learned about the new weapons. It's typical for Starfleet to latch onto the classic solution, which means bigger ships and better weapons, when what they really need is a sophisticated solution with a high chance of being able to succeed against such an unusual, dangerous species as the Borg.

Pike manages to get fifteen percent of his time for the analysis of the backlog data; much too little in his opinion, but they all need to compromise.

*

"The word is _favoritism_ — sir," Captain Jakande says straight into Pike's face as the _Horizon_ contacts about his message regarding Dael's placement.

"Hello, Ayo," Pike smiles, genuinely pleased to see the man. "We haven't talked in ages but I'm always relieved to read your successful mission reports."

"No amount of sweet talking will make this any easier," Jakande states, stabbing his forefinger at the cam. "It's one thing recommending a cadet to me — it's another thing when it's someone you're connected to. I read her profile at least five times to make sure I got the details right. A woman? And the partner of three people, including you _and_ the infamous James T. Kirk?" Jakande shakes his head. "I don't think you've surprised me that much ever since that suicidal maneuver back in the fight with the Betazed pirates."

"The maneuver worked," Pike reminds his former navigator, lacing his hands in front of his chest.

"This trick won't," Jakande says. "I'm surprised - you've always been strongly against favoritism, and now you're shamelessly trying to get her placed although her qualifications are sub-par?"

"Trust me — while I have a personal interest in her, obviously, I'd do the same for any of my protégés."

"She isn't your protégé."

"Not anymore, but she was before we got together. Check it out," Pike adds. The captain mutters a few voice commands and then nods.

"All right. Let's assume that this has been an official and completely business-related message from Admiral Pike to an old comrade." Jakande curls his hand in front of his chin. "It's still fishy. Is it worth getting potentially into a line of fire for it?"

"Yes."

Jakande brushes his hand through his curly, short black hair. "Christopher… frankly, if I took her on board and something happened — as it sometimes does, we all know that — and I'd have to send _the letter_ to you and Kirk… I couldn't do that."

"We would understand it. We've both been in similar situations before."

Jakande shakes his head. "It's one thing carrying the burden of a captain; it's another to be the recipient of these letters. You'd both never look at me the same way."

Pike leans back in his chair, receiving a decided vibe of… lying. Jakande lies; the reason for his rejection has nothing to do with Dael being Pike's lover or any potential fallout.

"What's the real problem, Ayo?"

Jakande wiggles on his chair. "Christopher…"

"Come on, what's the matter? You've got a girlfriend who says no?"

It's hard to see but Jakande's cheeks darken a tiny bit.

"Who, your first officer?" That position is always a good guess.

"My weapons officer. We're planning to get married when we hit the next starbase."

"Congratulations. But what is the problem?"

"I might have happened to have _almost_ had an affair with an ensign on the last rotation?" Jakande throws his hands up. "I'm not proud of it but the girl was phenomenal. So I had to promise Zora that we only take male command cadets for this rotation. You've got to understand — she's got Klingons in the bloodline and has a batleth on her wall, and I'd like to keep my balls."

Pike is too amused by the visibly humiliated man to be annoyed. Jakande has several black belts in sports Pike can't even pronounce properly and had more than once helped rescue Pike out of some tight situation during a landing party, so it's quite funny to see the man henpecked like this.

"That changes the situation of course," Pike says, trying to keep his face under control. "I wouldn't want Dael to be the cause of your unhappiness."

"Thanks," Jakanda says, visibly relieved. "I promise, otherwise I'd probably have given her a chance. Despite her mixed marks, she sounds tough and like someone who can think for herself."

"I like to think she does. Have a good trip, Ayo, and when you're back in my quadrant, let's have a drink together to celebrate your wedding."

"Yeah, sure. In a year, maybe," Jakande says. The connection closes.

 _One down, two left to go.  
_  
*

Considering his surprisingly stable health at the moment, Naaz finally greenlights him playing HoloSquash again. He promises to keep it slow and easy but both adjectives aren't really part of his vocabulary, so Dael and he end playing their hearts out on one of the 'fleet courts one Thursday afternoon. They're both wearing the sensor suits but he's playing on full level, no artificial help from the system, and hasn't felt that good in months. It makes him feel a bit puckish and he uses his greater strength to chase Dael around the court until she's fighting for air and close to throw her racquet at him.

"Sorry, darling," he says, rather unrepentantly.

She gives him the finger and summons some energy, from where he's got no clue, serving a ball that makes _him_ run. For a while the battle is balanced, until they're both tiring out and Pike decides to change tactics. After a half-crash into the wall, he theatrically slides to the ground.

Dael hastens to him. "Everything alright?" she asks concerned. He takes her hand and pulls her down to him, rolling them over and tackling her to the ground.

"More than fine," he says with a smirk, and captures her lips for a kiss, slipping his tongue deep inside. She groans into his mouth as he suggestively rubs his groin against hers. Her hands on his ass are more than encouraging, leaving nothing to assume about her own interest.

"They surely got cams here," she mutters.

"Probably. But there's a place without any." They hastily unlace, grab their gear and go to one of the large, lockable showers. Her lips are soft and welcoming as he presses her against the tiled wall for another claiming kiss, one knee between her legs. With one free hand, he pulls her front zipper down.

"Want to make love to you right here."

"I want you to _fuck_ me," Dael retorts pointedly, more aggressive than pliant. "Really, really good."

"Fine." He picks up the change in the atmosphere, feeling a surge of desire. "Get out of the suit," he says breathlessly.

Considering that she'd made a point lately of not wanting to get ordered around by him, it doesn't seem to apply when she's turned on like right now. Dael peels out of the suit, and another order makes her strip her boy shorts too, leaving her naked. She flushes under his gaze but doesn't flinch, just brushes her fingers over his bulge. His suit has got a two-way zipper and she reaches between his legs, purposely nudging his balls before carefully opening the zipper far enough to get to his underwear. His eyes drop closed as she nuzzles her nose against his covered erection and cradles his balls with her hands. Lacing his fingers into her hair, he starts directing her a little, not too much, just to show that he wants to stay in control. That she follows his lead causes a strong, new rush of arousal, and he's so damn ready to fuck her through the floor of the shower. With slightly trembling legs — _what the hell, not now, stupid body_ — he pulls away.

"Get on all fours," he says, and she instantly swings around, getting on hands and knees and presenting her _sexyhottight_ ass to him. For a moment, he just cherishes the view, nudging his dick that has a rather clear goal, _straight on, fuck hell_ , and then kneels down behind her, covering her tiny buttocks with both hands.

 _Thank god for knee protectors.  
_  
He massages her ass under her low moans, slipping a finger into her vagina to check her status and she's flooded, a warm, hot pool. She curves her back to claim more of his hand, and he obliges, fisting her with four fingers while her beautiful whimpers resonate in the tiled room.

"You want this, yes?" he rasps and presses his still covered bulge against her wetness. "Want to get fucked right here on the floor?"

"Yes."

"Beg for it."

She lowers her head on her arms, an almost inaudible " _You ass_ " floating his way. He sucks one thumb, wetting it as much as possible before sinking it into her ass without warning.

"Shit…" Dael gasps and tries to pull away, but he's got one arm around on her hips and doesn't let her.

"You're mine, and I'll take you any way I want," Pike states. As soon as the words are out, they seem so harsh that he wonders if they've been too much — but then she whimpers and stretches her ass only more towards him. He takes a deep breath; he's so turned on by now that he can't imagine being able to even give her what they both want, a long, hard fuck, because he'll just come the second he's inside of her. _Ah well_ , if that happened, he'd still have his hands and mouth.

With one slightly shaking hand, he pulls his erection out of his stretched jocks and teasingly rubs its already glistening head over her ass cheeks. "Come on, say it," he whispers and lightly pats her clit with his dick. She moans into her laced arms as he draws through her wet folds without any inclination to drive inside yet. It's an unfair fight and her giving in is the only logical solution.

"Come on." He thumbs her ass again, slowly pulling out and pushing back in.

He can see her fighting, her shoulders hunched against the folded arms, and dips his dick in, just a little, damn hard to hold back _..._ and then she gasps, " _fuck me please"_ , and he loses is, shoving into her hard and deep. There's nothing teasing about it when he pulls out only to drive in again to the hilt, and she's so wide, everything slick and barely enough friction for him, but she loves it anyway, pushing back towards him, matching his rhythm. He pulls out his thumb, needing his hands for leverage on her hips as they pick up speed, the sound of flesh against flesh loud and obscene in the room. He slows down a little as from the depth of his groin he can feel his orgasm approaching, far too early. But it's her that brings their movements to a sudden stop a moment later.

"What is it?" he asks concerned.

"You said you'd fuck me any way you want," she mutters.

"Yes?"

"So fuck my ass, damn."

He exhales, caressing her back with his hands. "Can't switch back, no condoms around."

"Doesn't matter. Fuck me both ways. Got it on my mind for a while…" She rises on her arms a little, looking back at him. "Please."

Pike knows that if he gives her an infection, the doc will have his hide — but he'd indulged in quite a few fantasies of his own about this, so he shifts his hands back to her ass, teasing her ring muscle with his thumb again. "You want me to fuck your hole? Take you any way I really want to? Back and forth, just as I please?"

"Yes," she gasps and sinks forward again.

"You just want to make me a dirty old man," he mutters, his dick literally twitching to thrust into the one place that is all his.

"Everyone thinks you are one, so put your money where your mouth is," she retorts, half-laughing, and this pushes him over the edge; in a swift move, he pulls out of her vagina and drives into her ass, a little cautious but not too much, his grip harshly on her pelvis to hold her in place. It's rather dry and tight, and he only makes a few pushes before switching back, dipping into her pussy under her deep moans. The change between both holes is amazing; one wide and slick and with a more direct effect on her physical arousal; the other wonderfully tight with an animalistic touch for them both. He already knows he'll be addicted to this afterwards, and judging from her responses, it's the same for her — there seems to be no end to her juices flowing, crawling down the insides of her legs like he's never seen before, and she still wants more, driving against him demandingly. Somewhere in between his heady rush of hormones he's really damn glad that his heart works fine because they might end in the headlines for death by sexual overkill.

While his heart beats like a mad drum and his legs start trembling, he still wants to last a little longer. She's probably never been that close to a vaginal orgasm, which she sometimes regrets not being able to have, and he'd love to help her solve that knot. At last he gives up, though, and reaches around to touch her clit. It's large, pulsing hot and slick, and he circles three fingers around it. Her breathing instantly changes, her concentration shifting from his pushes towards his other actions, and he slows down, glad for a moment of reprieve as his muscles seriously complain by now. Her sudden shudders take him by surprise and her vagina contracts so strongly that he's concerned about his dick for the first time in his life; then her muscles release him again and he thrusts some more before he follows her over the top, shooting two loads into her before switching back to her ass, pushing inside with his last shots. His world tilts and wavers before he comes back to reality, lying next to Dael on the hard floor. They're both breathing heavily, so out-fucked that it takes minutes before they're even able to draw together for a kiss.

"Love you," Pike whispers, cradling her face with his hand.

"Love you too." She catches his hand and puts a kiss on his fingers. "Thanks for ignoring your concerns."

"Hope it will work out," he says, having a slightly guilty conscience.

She strokes him soothingly. "I'm sure I'll be fine."

He sits up, slinging his arms around his bent knees to stretch his back. His neck cracks ominously, and he rolls his shoulders. He'd be sore tomorrow but it's been damn worth it.

She stretches out on her back with a yawn. "They've got these fancy toilets around here, should be enough to clean up."

He looks down on her, suddenly thinking that the fun doesn't have to end here, not for her. "Maybe I can help with that," he says and lies down between her legs, holding her with strong arms as she tries to wiggle out of his grip with an overexcited laugh before licking their joint juices out of her.

Two orgasms later, they finally make it to shower.

*

At midnight, he gets a message from the second ship he'd considered for Dael, captained by a friend from way back academy times. They rarely meet but when they do, it feels as if they hadn't been apart at all; he sometimes wishes she'd be in the quadrant more often, but her ship is dedicated to long research missions in the outer rim, and she usually spends any longer shoreleaves on Risa with a multitude of young men, claiming to need this escape to keep her sane.

_From Captain Mori Illyon, Endeavour, to Admiral Pike, SFHQ  
_   
_Dear Christopher,_

_Much as I liked to hear from you about Cadet Dael, after discussing her case with my XO I can't accept her for the tour. We've just had an admiral's son on the last one for which we had to cancel on a very promising lieutenant, and it's been a gigantic clusterfuck. I'd probably have a mutiny on my hand if we took on another special candidate for a while._

_Our leftover posting is kept open for Cadet Xi who's still in rehab after a bad accident on her first tour (you might remember the avalanche on Tristin II?), and we're pulling all strings to get her to us in time. In fact, I'd like to ask you in return if you could put in a word in Xi's favor. She wants to do her second tour, and we're equipped to deal with her remaining disabilities. She deserves a chance to finish the academy. Would you do that for me?_

_Love, Mori_

*

_Dearest Mori,_

_Despite you being unhelpful and equating my esteemed partner with some spoiled brass brat, I've made a few calls and brought in a specialist, so Xi should be in her way to you within the next three weeks._

_You realize you owe me something now. I intend to make good use of that for Dael's second tour._

_Christopher, not above blackmailing but loving you too_

Pike isn't really surprised when the cancellation from the third ship arrives only an hour later. Captain Berell just had accepted another cadet and is sorry _etc etc_. Pike is sorry too because this means that Dael won't get a ship posting, but will end on some boring station or worse. At least he'd tried.

*

For various reasons, Dael hadn't been able to make it to a reception with him yet, but on the next evening, the Andorian ambassador would celebrate the ten year jubilee of his inauguration, and Pike has every intention to bring her along. They'd even gone shopping together to buy her a presentable outfit.

He might've dropped a word about his plan to a few people, considering it to be no big deal — but he's obviously wrong, as Nogura calls him late in the evening before the event.

"I heard you wanted to bring Cadet Dael as your escort to the Andorian Embassy."

"Yes. Any problem with that?"

"As you attend in your official capacity as Starfleet officer, we don't think it's recommended that you attend with a cadet as your company."

Pike squares his shoulders against the back of his chair. "We?"

"The press office and I."

"I don't understand. It's been never a problem when an officer brought his partner, no matter if said partner was a member of Starfleet or not. She wouldn't even be in uniform."

"As I said, we think you shouldn't bring her along."

"Is that an order, _sir_? Because if it isn't, I'd reserve the right to bring an escort of my own choice," Pike says stiffly.

"If I need to make it an order, I will," Nogura says just as stiffly. "Chris, please. Don't make this any more complicated than it already is. We'd like to keep you out of the headlines for a while, and showing up with her would certainly push the matter of your foursome relationship into the focus of the press hounds."

"They'll write a story about it anyway, if they want to," Pike states. "Does that newly created order also refer to Dael's potential attendance of events at the Vulcan embassy? For which she receives invitations addressed to her own name?"

"If she has an invitation of her own, we probably couldn't stop her. We still would recommend against the two of you attending together."

"I see," Pike says flatly. "I will adhere to your wish, although I'd like to state for the record that I think your order to be unjustified and against common Starfleet rules."

"Comment noted. Good night, Chris."

Pike doesn't say anything, just watches the screen go blank, annoyed and irritated.

*

He attends the reception as promised, and despite his intention to leave it early, the attachés of various Federation nations had obviously decided to team up against him, cajoling him into discussions about politics that keep him occupied far longer than he wanted to. Of the attending 'fleet officers, he'd been most interested to finally meet Captain Shaa, or Treshanshaa z'Chrondre, the person who's currently most often brought up as Barnett's successor.

For decades, there hasn't been an Andorian in any higher position in Starfleet; they usually thought the 'fleet to be too pacifist and Earth too frivolous and tended to return to their own ships after a brief detour through the Federation's fleet. Shaa had been no exception from the rule, but she had been among a group of Andorian officers to rejoin the 'fleet in the wake of the Narada incident, determined to make Starfleet a more powerful organization. Since then, she'd been mostly assigned to critical border protection missions, her natural aggression combined with strategic thinking a perfect mix to deal with Klingons. She's been decorated many times, had a dozen ships under command in the end, and while nobody wants to use the word "war hero," Shaa essentially fits that bill. Making her Head of Ship Ops would be a signal for a more militaristic direction of the 'fleet — of the Federation in whole. The final decision is still open, but watching Nogura practically court the Andorian makes Pike smile ironically. She's the old man's new favorite toy and agrees to it, no doubt about it, but she'd learn fast enough that toys are destined to be played with. With his personal decisions, he'd walked out of Nogura's toy collection without intending to, and he doesn't really regret this.

The sun is well on its way up into the sky when he finally leaves the Embassy, his med app signaling an annoyed orange in his pocket. He likes to think it's the lack of sleep and not the few drinks people had forced on him, which he had to accept because it would've looked rude otherwise.

His assistant Nicole had attended in company of a Lieutenant Hershew, and she'd been the only one to ask about Dael, not completely surprised when she'd learned about Nogura's call. Pike wonders what's going on that he might have missed over his vacation, but is too exhausted to think about it right now, using his beam account for a speedy delivery.

Everything had looked fine when he'd left home, so Pike is surprised when he finds the bed empty and a stripe of light emerging from the bathroom, ominous sounds in their wake. He opens the door to find Dael huddled on the toilet seat.

"What's wrong?"

She looks up at him, face starch-white underneath the tattoos. "I'm bleeding."

"Bleeding?" he asks confused and instantly concerned about their unsafe sex from a day ago, before things fall in place. "As in menstruation."

"Yes," she replies, and opens her legs.

 _Hell_ , it looks as if someone stabbed her, bright-red blood smeared all over her inner legs. For a second, Pike isn't sure who of them is more traumatized right now, but he'd rescued burned people out of shuttle explosions and had held a ripped-off limb in his hands more than once.

 _This can't be worse, right?  
_  
He bites down his upcoming nausea. "Let's get you into the shower."

"I don't want to move," she whispers. "I feel sick."

"Then the shower is still the best place to be." A bit of calm command voice does the trick and when he holds out his hand, she takes it.

"It's all right, you will be fine," Pike says as she's under the spray of the head he holds. He showers half the room with her and doesn't mind, as that means the blood on the seat and floor is at least diluted. Seeing the first droplets of water on his expensive jacket, he only wishes he'd undressed before looking for her.

"Guess we need to buy, uh, things to take care of the bleeding. Is there anyone you'd like to call?" Because he's really out of his league right now, and a part of him wishes he'd never had to deal with this.

She shakes her head and leans back against the shower wall with eyes closed.

"How do you feel?" he asks concerned.

"Not good."

He's not surprised, considering her face is as white as the tiles behind her.

"You should see a doctor."

Opening her eyes to a slit, she frowns at him. "I don't want to see anyone. I'm not ill."

"When was the last time you had this?"

"I was sixteen. And it wasn't like this." She rolls along the wall, looking away from him.

"We could call SFM. Use my emergency code."

"No. I don't want them — ah —" The sentence ends in a gurgle as she bows forward and throws up. Pike's stomach jumps in sympathy.

 _Good thing the water's still running.  
_  
"You stay put here, I'll be right back." Pike walks out, doing a little research. Just as he remembers, there's a gynecology practice in the same apartment block, only five levels below them.

Five minutes and a hurried change into more comfortable clothes later, he walks back into the bathroom. "There's a 24h in house practice. I gave them a call, and they'll take you in as emergency. Think you can make it for a few minutes?"

Dael looks up from her seated position in the shower, looking twice as miserable with the water running down her head. "I never had any problems. I thought it would all just go back to normal. I wish I hadn't listened to Leonard."

"I'm sure it's just the first time," Pike states, definitely wishing it for her and himself. "Give it a few months." He offers her one of the dark-blue towels.

"You've got the choice — the in house gynecologist, or SFM."

With trembling arms, she slings the terry cloth around her. "I really feel better, Christopher."

Pike shakes his head. "I had people lie to me before you were born, Dael, so don't even try. Besides, if I don't take care of you, I'll have two angry people on my case and I'd like to avoid that."

She smiles a little, and it's good enough for now. He's with her as they dress, and she's using some toilet paper as make-up sanitary towel. Minutes later, they're at the practice.

"I phoned you on behalf of my partner," he says as he's at the reception. "She's having medical problems."

"Fine." The nurse only briefly meets his eyes, quickly focusing on Dael instead. She asks for an ID card and some personal data, which Dael supplies, and then shows her to the doctor's office. Pike walks back and forth for a moment, just deciding to take a seat when the door springs open, Dael running out. "I'm not going to stay here for another second!" she blurts out and grabs his arm. "Let's go."

"Hold on. What's the matter?" Pike asks.

"They… " She's at loss for words. "They think… ah fuck." When she side-steps him, he reflectively takes a hold on her arm.

"Just need to go to the restroom," she chokes, and he'd heard that sound already once today so he hastily lets her go.

"What did you say to her?" he states sharply as the doctor comes out of the room.

"I only asked the usual questions," the doctor says with a belligerent expression on his face.

Suddenly, Pike gets it.

 _Strong vaginal bleeding, bruises, probably traces of unsafe sex, and a man twice her age bringing her in, claiming she's his girlfriend.  
_  
There are explanations and _explanations_.

It's time for disaster control. He takes out his ID card. "My name is Christopher Pike. Admiral Christopher Pike. Dael and I live here together on the twenty-eighth floor. Feel free to contact Admiral Nogura of Starfleet to check out my reputation. If you want to talk to a doctor, call Doctor Naaz Anumanchi whose patient I am. Do whatever you need to feel good with the situation, because Dael needs a doctor and we don't have time for bullshitting around. And I'll see what I can do to calm her down."

The doctor frowns as Pike opens the door to the restroom. Pike shrugs. "You can send in a nurse with me, but I'll go in there now and try to control the damage you've caused."

There's nobody following him as he walks in. "Dael?" He finds her in the second stall, kneeling in front of the bowel. Grabbing some paper towels, he crouches down. "Here, take that," he says softly and offers them to her.

"I hate this," she mutters after wiping her face. "The doctor suggested that you… "

"I realized that now."

"Sometimes I can't believe how people think."

"Frankly, I'd rather have them ask one time too many instead of closing their eyes to potential abuse. Two hundred years ago, they'd just have swallowed any lie." He draws her closer, and she leans against him with a sigh.

"Let's go back and see if he's ready now."

Dael shakes her head. "I want to get out of here."

"I just dropped my figurative pants, so we might as well see it through now." He strokes her wet hair. "He was only concerned for your well-being. Give him another chance." Still a little resisting, Dael walks with him back to the doctor's office. The man is inside, offering them a seat.

"I've got to apologize," the doctor says roughly. "Just a week ago, we had a case —" He wipes his hand across his face. "Let's just say, a really bad case like I haven't seen in ages, and seeing you coming in today in what looked like a similar state was just too much for my composure. I reacted unprofessionally and without the full knowledge of your details, and I apologize for that."

When Dael remains deadly quiet, Pike replies in her stead, "Apology accepted."

"No," Dael says sharply. "I don't accept it." Pike frowns at her, but she looks at him with her jaw set before turning back to the doctor. "You had no right to make such an assumption," she addresses the man. "It's been an incredible insult and presumptuous and I will not stay here." She gets up and walks out, leaving Pike with nothing to do but follow her lead. "Sorry about that, doctor," he says and shakes the man's hand. "Trust me when I say that I appreciate you taking care of your patients, but —"

"But she doesn't see it like that, and I can understand her too." The doctor nods and sighs. "I assume you're off to another medical facility now?"

"Yes, I'll get her to Starfleet Medical, which I should've done in the first place. Have a good day." Pike leaves, joining Dael in the corridor.

"I'm fine," she mutters as he takes her arm.

He skims over her still pale face. "No, you're not," he says in his command voice, then flips open his communicator to contact SFM for a medical emergency beam-out, not blinking at the Romulan expletives thrown his way.

Pike waits outside of the station for an hour before she returns. She's not inclined to speak about her results on the way home, aside from the information that all is fine and she'll deal with it — and the question of protection — on her own. He's not sure whether he should feel insulted or relieved, settling with the latter in the end.

He could always ask about details some other day.

*

On the next weekend, it's Pike who brings four small bottles home, placing them in a row next to the tasty lube variations. He feels like celebrating their survival of Dael's first menstruation, but doesn't say that aloud. She's not much in favor of her female parts at the moment, and there's hope some good sex would improve that. A completely altruistic action on his part, of course.

Dael picks one up, reading the label. "Chemical protection? The one brand we tried didn't work very well."

"No, but after our recent workout I asked our non-resident hetero sex specialist for recommendations —"

"Jim?"

"The same, and these four are on his favorites." Pike waves at them. "I really loved having sex with you without giving a thought to condoms, so I think we should try them."

She makes her choice, and he sits down on the bed with folded legs. At first, it's mostly experimental and plain fun as she undresses and gets on all fours, wiggling her butt in front of him. He puts the bottle's outlet into her vagina and sprays into her. Their fingers meet as they both test the consistency, and Dael giggles. "Sounds and feels like spray cream."

"Maybe I should use that, and then lick it all out of you," he says and rotates his forefinger inside her. That's the moment when the atmosphere changes, suddenly charged with eroticism. He takes some of the cream and teasingly strokes it across her tight hole. "Should I…?"

"Of course," Dael says a little strangled and holds still as he sprays a load into her ass. Once again, he probes to feel the consistency, using one, two, three fingers for it.

"What do you think?" he asks, his other hand palming his erection through the pants.

"Don't ask stupid questions," she groans. "Test along."

"We should record it, send it to Jim," he says. "He wanted to know what we needed this for, so I told him about our fuck in the shower."

She gasps. "You didn't!"

"I did — every dirty little detail." He places a kiss on her ass. "He loved hearing it. He misses you."

"I know," Dael says, and whimpers as he fingers both holes simultaneously. "I miss him too."

"Let's record this and send it to him. He'll love it."

"Okay."

The cream works extremely well with no discernible side effects, and they send a lengthy, triple-locked recording to the _Enterprise_ the next day, their first straight porn ever.

It's a message from McCoy that comes in two days later, saying, " _I'm not sure what you sent him but I'd like to thank you anyway. Best sex since we left Earth_."

Swapping becomes one of Dael's and Pike's favorite sex techniques.

*

"I'm sorry," Nicole tells him on Tuesday as she hands in her resignation from his office. "Lieutenant Hershew and I are going to get married and I decided to move to UP with him."

Having a good assistant leave comes close to one's house burning down, but Pike knows better than to whine about the inevitable chaos that will ensue over the next months. "While I hate to see you go, I understand your motivation. Congratulations on your upcoming marriage," he says graciously as he shakes her hand. "Do you want another posting? Commander Cho —"

"Yes, she already signed my new orders," Nicole says. "Over the work for the task force, we became almost friends, and I'm looking forward to working in her team on UP. Which might well mean that we'll still be in contact once in a while."

"That would be nice." He eyes her resignation. "Only two weeks until you leave? This will be a tight transition phase. Do you have anyone that you might want to recommend to me?"

"I wish I had, but most people I know have interesting postings at the moment."

"You're saying working with me isn't interesting?" he teases her, but there's a flicker of an indefinable emotion in her eyes, and he suddenly wonders if she has another reason to leave.

"Of course it is," she says after a moment too long, "I just meant they're all occupied already."

He pushes his misgivings aside, but when HR sends the first aspiring candidates, they leave much to desire.

When Nicole leaves for good, he accepts a temporary assistant with the necessary security clearing from the pool that someone recommends to him. The man is a few years younger than he but turns out to have the flexibility of a concrete wall. It also doesn't help that the guy gives them strange gazes whenever Dael visits him in his office, but Pike is willing to give him four weeks to adjust, all the while secretly hunting for another assistant.

At least nobody would assume he'd have an affair with a guy who has such a horrible aura of a married man, flabby, with thinning grey hair and football as his sole interest.

*

Farnham had renewed his offer for a boys'n'girls night out between the four of them, and after a short discussion with Dael, Pike had accepted. They meet in his club on Thursday night. Pike is dressed in dark grey, Dael in one of her black club outfits, tight jeans and a leather vest. She wears her dick, leaving little to assume by its half-erect curve pressing against the fabric; on her face, the tattoos are hidden beneath a layer of cover cream — a design decision, she tells him, nothing else — and her make-up makes her look a little like having walked out of the latest production of _Rocky Horror Picture Show_. Pike wouldn't have minded a less flashy outfit but he won't meddle with her decision.

Pike hadn't seen Farnham since his friend's apology to Kirk a few weeks ago, and the first minutes are a little strange, chit-chat about nothing important. Eric is happy to see him, and extremely curious about Dael, barely able to keep his eyes away from her. Pike watches the interaction of his friends with interest; they seem closer than before the crisis they've had in between. When they send Eric and Dael off to get some beer, Farnham confirms his impression.

"Yes, we did quite a lot of talking over the last weeks, checking out what we want from each other." Farnham smiles. "Found out that we want to stay together for as long as possible."

"Great. I want you to be happy, you know, and Eric is a really fine guy," Pike says.

"Yes, he is." Farnham's smile deepens as his eyes stray over to Eric at the bar, who's animatedly chatting with Dael.

"So, how about Fed Intelligence? Did you get back your job or are they still trying to boot you?" Pike asks.

Farnham draws a face. "Don't ask."

"Sorry."

"They're still investigating, and honestly, it's driving me crazy. Thought about resigning myself but I just don't want to give them the satisfaction of making me look guilty. They either should find something to get me shoved, or let me go back to some sensible work." Farnham shakes his head. "Let's speak about something better. Like Dael, maybe. She looks breathtaking tonight, what did you do with her?"

Pike feels a leap of pride about the compliment, but it's not really his doing, so he says, "Nothing — she's just learning to spread her wings more and more."

"When I first saw her in that shop, she looked as if she wanted to meld with the decorations. But today… I'm impressed."

Eric and Dael walk back to their corner of the bar room with beer in hand. They're still talking when they reach them, about some music groups Pike had never heard of, and if anything, Eric's gaze on Dael shows even more interest.

Pike hadn't had any plans for tonight beyond a simple chat, but it doesn't take long before Eric is on his knees in front of Dael and sucking off her dick, while above them, Farnham keeps telling Pike about the newest fine restaurants that have opened. Dael tries to keep down her noises but Eric loves dick and gives a hell of a blowjob, so her sweet moans soon make other people turn their heads.

"Guess we should change location," Pike says, and they move into his private playroom. It's a kind of natural development that Eric ends on all fours on the large bed, his pretty ass high up in the air, and Dael practically bounces behind him, barely able to wait until Farnham prepares his lover with lube, more for show and the mental image — Eric loves to get loaned out — than because Eric needs a lot of preparation. They need a moment to arrange their limbs and adjust Eric's ass to the right height for Dael, and then she slowly pushes in, her dick hard and long, close to the max.

"Fuck, yes…" Eric moans into the pillow, arms curled into the blanket, and thus encouraged, Dael gathers speed, pushing and pulling out of the hole faster.

Seeing the two younger people in action is quite a turn-on, but Pike doesn't feel the need to participate, just palms his dick through his pants as he watches them. In fact, Pike prefers watching Dael fucking someone else to fucking him, strange thing. Eric loves the ride, no doubt about it, and utters a lot of sweet groans all through it. He's a responsive guy, one of the cutest bottoms Pike has ever met, and the two in combination produce a hot layer of arousing sounds in the room.

"You just want to watch, or would you like me to help a guy out?" Farnham asks with a twinkle as he draws close to Pike. Pike scoots a little over, resting his back on the wall for better support. "Let's help out each other," he says, and so they sit side by side, jerking each other off to the view of their lovers having sex.

It feels so different than what they've had in their vacation, Pike thinks in a random moment; without the complicated emotions of interwoven relationships, having a foursome like tonight is just sex and fun and so easy, somehow. There's not a trace of jealousy, no thoughts of demands being placed by someone.

When Dael has a first orgasm, she's quite done while Eric hasn't come yet, and the four rearrange themselves, Farnham taking over Eric and Dael crawling up to him.

"Did I tell you that we reworked the belt, Jim and I?" Dael asks, eyes flashing as she pulls the condom off her dick.

"No, how?" Pike says expectantly, his hand cradling his hard-on.

"I can get penetrated while wearing it." She crouches over him and sinks her pussy down on his erection without warning, and his body just jerks into the move. It's hard work to push up into her, and so he soon rolls them over so that she's on her back. Fucking her with her dick pressed between their bodies is adding a new, brilliant level to their lovemaking, and he thrusts into her with little finesse and all need, her legs caught in his tight hold. When he comes with a groan, he drowns in the dancing flicker of candlelight turned to golden whirls. She cradles him through the subsiding shudders with her hands soothingly on his neck, letting him find his breath again.

When they look over to the other couple, Eric is also on his back, with Farnham curled around him and going for quite a low, sensual fuck. They kiss a lot and joke around, and Pike is strangely touched by the feel of belonging he can see between the two.

Dael and Pike quietly agree to leave and let the others have their time alone, sitting down at the bar for another beer and cooling down.

It takes half an hour before the others return, faces still a little red and lips puffy from kissing, a general air of well-fucked around them. Eric embraces Dael, whispering something in her ear before thanking her for the great ride, and Pike can see the flush on her neck where the makeup doesn't cover it. She excuses herself for a moment, leaving for the restrooms.

"He's really something special," Eric says to Pike.

"He?"

"Well, De," Eric says. "I know that he's genetically a woman, but for me, he's a guy."

Pike looks after her, seeing her shadow disappearing into the men's restroom. He wonders if that's intentional or just an error, while contemplating Eric's use of her club nickname Dee.

"What is he to you?"

"A woman," Pike says without thinking. "Always has been, and while I love sucking her dick… I don't know. Still a woman." Somewhere in the back of his head, something clicks; he wouldn't be in favor of any gender alignment because she's perfect for him just the way she is. Even and maybe especially as a woman. It surprises him.

"In any case — De is fabulous," Eric says.

Farnham curls an arm around his lover, nodding at Pike. "What he says."

When Dael returns, she frowns a little under their combined stares. "What?"

"Everything fine," Pike says, drawing her into an embrace and mussing up her carefully redone spiky hairdo, everyone laughing as she slaps away his hand with a groan and a curse.

They all agree that they'd have to hang out together more often.

*

Dael's classes pick up speed and her days get longer and longer, which leaves Pike with more of their household chores. He changes his schedule and starts to leave the office early whenever he can, shop on the way and then work in his home office until she comes home.

Today, her favorite Romulan spice _rhlliene_ is on the list and so he makes a little detour to Barnes's shop to buy it.

The second Barnes notices him, the man's face darkens. "You!" the man half-shouts at him. "You still dare to come here? Ah, I waited to see you to give you a piece of mind."

"Well, then it's probably good that I came along, isn't it?" Pike says calmly. "What's your problem?"

"My problem?" Barnes blurts out, both large hands on the counter's top. "My problem is that a man like you dares to hook up with kids."

"You're talking about Dael, I presume?"

"Of course I am! Saw you lately, you and her, and that's when a friend told me."

Pike has little doubt that this friend had actually been Barnes' son Stephen, considering how interested the young man had been in Dael — jealousy is a powerful emotion. They probably could've prevented this drama if Caitleen had kept her brother out of the loop, but maybe he asked too much from kids here.

"Almost couldn't believe but then you dared to kiss the kid right there on the street. That's when I believed it." The man takes a deep breath. "I've got no say in Dael's life, but I've got a say in Caitleen's, and if you ever dare to even think of touching her, I'll kill you."

Pike eyes Barnes. "I have no interest in your daughter, Mr. Barnes. She's a friend of Dael and for that I'm glad, but I'm not pursuing her in a sexual way, if that's your concern."

"Is it even legal, you and Dael? I'm sure there're laws against it, at least in Starfleet," the man keeps raving on, his head growing redder by the second. "Someone's got to protect kids from people like you."

"People like me being…?" Pike asks coolly, having a flashback to his last diplomatic mission as captain, with an angry Mondarian prime minister shouting into his face. He hadn't been great in sweet-talking but he'd had a reputation that he really could stand crossfire.

"Pedophiles and such. It's just wrong."

"Dael was twenty when we got together, and despite your obvious concerns about me forcing her into anything, we've got a relationship that is public and official within Starfleet realms. You might get used to the fact that consenting adults are allowed to make their own choices."

"Get out of my shop," Barnes says, fuming, "and don't dare to come back ever again."

"Fine." Pike leaves. He takes a detour to the bench in the park, sitting down on it to watch the ducks drawing curved lines on the water. Then he takes out his PADD and writes a message to Dael.

 _Caitleen's father saw us together lately and put two and two together. Read me the riot act for being a pedophile. Guess you've got to buy your Romulan spices yourself from now on.  
_  
The answer comes almost instantly.

 _Will talk to him.  
_  
It's after eight when Dael finally comes home, and the answer to Pike's concerns could be extracted from her bent shoulders and hanging head. She sags down onto the couch next to him, spreading her legs into the room.

"He just doesn't understand," she says and slides into his embrace. He puts a kiss onto her forehead.

"He forbids me to see Caitleen. As if we were in the middle ages."

"What does Caitleen say about it?"

"That he'll get over it." Dael sighs. "Sometimes, I'm so sick of it all."

"You could always split up with me."

She heaves a sigh, then looks up at him from under short lashes. "I can't. I want you too much." She closes her eyes. "Need you."

He brushes his fingers through her flattened hair. "Need you too. Come on, let's do something that makes us forget this crappy day."

She's all tired limbs when he kneels over her in bed, putting kisses on her tiny nipples and along her beautiful chest tattoos before getting down to serious business.

*

On the weekend, they visit Tom's family. It's a nice trip, the weather is great, the family relaxed and welcoming. Dael plays with Tom's two kids, teaching them some Romulan swearwords to Tom's hidden delight (Cordelia, his wife, thankfully doesn't speak any).

It's good to be in a place where they just can _be_ , Pike thinks as he sits on the terrace with a drink, watching the action down at the playground when Tom joins him.

"Life's good?" Tom asks with a wave of his glass towards Dael.

"Mostly."

"Any troubles?"

Pike shrugs. "Nothing I can't handle."

"She looks happy."

"I try to make her."

Tom laughs. "Not inclined to talk a lot today, are you?"

"Actually, no. I feel perfectly fine to sit here and relax," Pike admits.

"All right. Just get you a new drink, and then leave you to your observations."

Pike sits in wonderful silence for some more time, thinking of nothing in particular and napping a little until Dael picks him up for the barbecue. The food is delightful, the beer tasty, and it's already sunset when they drive back home. They stop at a parking place in the middle of their journey to sit down on the hood of the car like in some old movie, watching the red-and-blue sky together for a while before driving the rest of the way.

*

Arissa finally finagles him into a joint lunch on short notice, and they meet in a small bar a few streets away from the admiralty. She's dressed rather unspectacularly in jeans and a knitted blue-white sweater, as if she wants to hide in bright daylight, and slips onto the chair opposite to him in one fluid movement.

"Hi, Chris, glad you could make it."

"You're lucky that one of my meetings was cancelled," he says. "Should we order something?" She agrees and they place their orders, apple juice and a salad for him, water and grated vegetables for her.

"So, would you finally tell me what this meeting is about?" Pike asks curiously.

"Remember the Rainbow Balls?" she asks.

"Those large queer events? Barely. They usually took place when I was offworld, and stopped shortly after I came back. I've only attended one of them."

"I've been to them all, but it's been over eight years since the last one," Arissa says. "That's why I think the city definitely needs a new xenosexual party line."

Their drinks and dishes arrive, and Pike sips from his juice. "Maybe, yes," he says noncommittally, not in favor of that strange new adjective that includes sex with aliens on top of everything else; probably he's just too humanophile for his own good, or too old-fashioned.

"A few people decided to reactivate them. Well, at least make one Rainbow Ball and see whether they still work. We've got a location and a number of clubs interested in participating."

"Sounds good. But where do I come into the picture?"

"I've already asked a lot of the smaller clubs but they're reluctant to join the project unless there are some bigger names in the pot."

"And bigger credits?" Pike says, easing his irony with a smile.

"We'll see. In any case, it would be extremely helpful if my club and yours became the main players."

Pike picks up a salad leaf. "You should talk to Ole about it. He manages the club."

Arissa waves her hand. "You know that Ole would never support a mixed party."

"But I would?"

"Not a few years ago, but today…" Arissa smirks. "You owe me one, Chris. You stole my favorite Friday night bartender."

He frowns, instinctively defensive. "It's been Dael's choice, not mine."

"Just kidding," she replies soothingly. "I know she's working her ass off for the academy, and I would've lost her anyway in a few weeks." She tilts her head. "But there's no denying that Ole is damn monosexist and wouldn't want to support a queer party. That's why I'm talking to you."

Pike had never given it a real thought, but now that he thinks about Ole's reaction when learning about Dael, it's probably true. It had never concerned him, as long as he'd just been on the gay side, but that had definitely changed. He chews on the party idea — and a piece of tomato — for a moment before answering, "What are your plans?"

She smiles. "Do you know the Grande Opera? I've asked them for a quote on how much renting it would be for one Friday night."

"Let me guess — terribly expensive." Pike shakes his head.

"We'd rent the building and their team. We'd have eight weeks to sell the tickets in advance. Cheap ones for the dance floor, and expensive ones for the loges, which are private. If there are too few tickets sold, we could cancel the event. Everything people consume in the loges is GO profit, everything else is ours."

"Really, Arissa —"

"You don't have to decide today," she says. "I've promised them our decision for in a week. Here is the full calculation and a list of all interested clubs." She sends a message to his PADD. "Imagine the ground floor as one gigantic anything-goes party. We'd rock the fucking city."

"Probably," Pike says. It sounds nice, but he's got a fair idea of the work involved. "You'd take responsibility of organizing the whole event?" he asks. "Because I don't have the time and interest for it."

"I would, yes. As long as your club's name turns up as a headliner."

Pike thinks for another moment, then nods. "I'll talk to Ole. I couldn't do that without him. We're business partners and he's the one running the club, not me."

"Good." Arissa smiles and sips from her water. "Speaking of which, I heard congratulations are in place?"

"Hmm?"

"Went official with the partnership?"

"Only within Starfleet," Pike states. "Where did you get that information?"

"Not from Dael, but I've got friends who got friends…" Arissa shrugs. "Signing in three names is unusual, of course people are bound to take a closer look. Plus I heard you introduced them all as your partners at a reception. So it's really not that secret anymore."

Before he finds a good answer, Arissa looks at her PADD and gets up. "Need to go. You're invited." She waves her hand over the empty dishes and is gone, in her usual whirlwind style.

*

"I didn't hear from you," Cho says in a call with him on the next morning.

"Did you expect to hear from me?" Pike says surprised. "Our conference is scheduled for —"

"Well, I thought you'd comment on the movie," she says. "Especially as I included a little gimmick for you." She twinkles.

"What movie?"

"Hmm, strange, I sent it to Esteban and supposed he'd forward it. Guess he forgot it. It'll be with you in a minute." She signs off and true, a little vid hits his box, some funny stop motion animation with an Orion woman explaining some fancy _Pathfinder_ installations, like security belts that get hooked right into human bodies.

He fakes amusement in his reply to Cho, but besides that fact he's got a fair picture of the Borg reality thanks to the old Spock's stories, he can't quite ignore that this isn't the first piece of information that's got lost on the way between Esteban and him. Nothing really important so far, but it had happened once too often to be only by chance.

The one time he'd asked Esteban about such a missing message, the young man had chalked it up to a mistake. He'd have to speak with him, but Esteban has the rest of the week off.

Pike decides to speak with him on Monday.

*

Monday comes with the usual flood of meetings, and it takes a few hours before Pike manages to pull Esteban aside for a talk. But before he can bring up the lost messages, Esteban rises to speak.

"Sir, my wife and I would like to invite you and your partner Dael to dinner on Friday night at our house. I know it's on short notice but we'd be delighted if you found the time for it."

Pike doesn't quite know how to reply to this surprising offer. They're not exactly on friendly terms lately and his first impulse is to decline.

Esteban notices his hesitation. "I know, our working relationship was a little strained lately, but I'd like to remedy that."

Pike curls his lips. "A noble goal, but why now?"

"Maybe I had a little epiphany on the weekend?" Esteban says with a tight smile. "My wife reminded me how you came to visit her during my absence. That first mission… I couldn't have asked for a better superior, and I shouldn't let my personal disagreements with your life choices impede our working relationship. I'd like to mend the gap I caused, sir. "

The man's motivation seems sound, and despite a small, lingering feeling that a family dinner isn't necessarily the best way to start anew, Pike accepts the invitation.

He decides against bringing up the lost messages; if things went as planned, these minor annoyances would end soon anyway.

*

On Tuesday, a surprise visitor waits in front of his office when he returns from a lonesome lunch, once again an unplanned task ruining his plans to go with some colleagues.

"I've got to talk to you," Farnham says.

Pike frowns. "I don't have much time. That urgent?"

"I'm out of town for a while, and I'd like to deal with this before that."

"Back in the job?" Pike inquires as they go inside.

Farnham shrugs. "Not sure yet — we'll see." Once the door is closed, he pulls out a disk.

"What's the matter?" Pike asks, growing concerned over the way Farnham looks at him. "Anything wrong with the _Enterprise_?"

"Oh, no — nothing wrong with anybody, in my opinion. Though your mileage may vary." Farnham smiles. "Are you fully informed about Dael's progress at the academy?"

"A little. I still try not to impose myself on her or her instructors; her situation is complicated enough without that."

"And what do you think of her command abilities?" Farnham asks. When Pike doesn't answer right away, he adds, "If she were just any cadet and you evaluated her, what would you say?"

It pains Pike to ponder this, but at last he replies, "That despite the hard work she puts into her studies and the promise she shows in several areas, she will never be one of the best."

"Exactly. She's doing okay, but nothing more. A far cry from you or Kirk, with which she often compares herself and gets compared by others."

"She's her own person," Pike states coolly. "Why should she be like us?"

"Because everyone knows you always go for extraordinary talent. And she doesn't fit the bill."

"How dare you —" Pike snaps, but Farnham stops him with a wave of his hand. "Not my opinion. Just what some people say. When looking at her profile from another angle, not the normal command track, she is excellent."

"Oh no," Pike says roughly as he begins to understand where this is going.

"Oh yes." Farnham turns the disk in his hands. "We do as much scanning as everyone else involved with the academy, and to us, she looks more than promising."

"Of course, someone with self-destructive tendencies is just perfect for you," Pike snaps, his usual coolness going down the drain over the idea of Dael risking her life over some secret mission on some deathly planet. Being an officer is one thing — and still risky enough — but Intelligence missions are something completely different. Not even speaking of their potentially questionable morality.

"She's left those tendencies behind after her first year, thanks to you, and that's a good thing. We don't like to invest time and money in people who don't survive their first assignment. Today, she's got something to come back for."

Pike is so angry he's at loss for words, although a part of him realizes that Farnham's analysis is rather to the point.

Farnham suddenly slings a friendly arm over his shoulder, drawing him close against his resistance. "Chris, I can understand that you don't like the idea. But we both agree that she's not standard command track material, even if you hate the idea — which is a beautiful sign of your loyalty, but it doesn't help. She's constantly under pressure and surveillance from instructors and cadets alike, and when she gets good grades, rumors have it she receives them because of you, and when she gets low grades, people wonder why you are with her and think she's got to be a fabulous fuck that you can overlook her obvious weakness in performance. I think she's a great girl and she deserves all the chances in the world to make the best of her abilities. And her abilities are different than what Starfleet wants. She's not a great team player. She's not good at ordering people around, and she's not really compatible with a classic military organization. But she's got something else. She's a survivor. She's used to fighting alone, able to do whatever is needed to get through not just a tricky situation but months under pressure."

Farnham pushes the disk into Pike's hands. "These are recordings from some of her training simulations. Watch her in action, and see what she's good at and what not. And then think about it."

"It's confidential material and property of the academy. I won't watch it," Pike states sharply. "And does it even matter if I told you that I think it's a terrible idea to consider her for special ops?"

"You once said to me that it's extremely important to you that she makes her own choices. So answer that yourself," Farnham replies. "We've got a ship out there that could use someone of her caliber — and she could use a surrounding in which she's welcome and accepted on her own terms."

"What ship? Who's the captain?"

"Sorry, can't tell." Farnham smiles apologetically.

"I guess it's time for you to go," Pike says icily and opens the door.

"Yes." Farnham nods. "I know you're angry at me now, but I'm also rather sure that when you step back for a moment and think about it, you're going to agree with me. See you in two weeks." He hurriedly leaves him.

Pike tries his best throughout the day to forget this discussion but he doesn't succeed. Farnham does have a point, he knows, and if he really means it with letting Dael choose her own life, he's got to talk to her.

*

In the evening, Pike finds out that someone else had been faster. Dael had already been offered this special training mission, and from the look on her face, she's giving it some serious consideration.

"I thought I would end up on some boring space station, but this would be my chance for a really interesting mission," she says excited and looks at him from her spot on the couch. "What do you think?"

He doesn't want to quash her youthful enthusiasm but he's too concerned about this development to remain cool. "It sounds like an interesting opportunity, but you really should look into what they offer you. The career path you might move on isn't just a simple specialization. The missions of these groups are often morally questionable or downright illegal by Federation law."

"Did you ever participate in an Intelligence mission?"

"Not really. Of course, I've often worked with Intelligence material, but I've never directly worked for them."

"And that is that much difference to you?" Dael asks.

"Yes," Pike states bluntly. "It may sound strange to you, but I consider Starfleet's work to be morally and legally grounded. Fed Intelligence, on the other hand, usually works in shady undercover missions."

"Maybe there's something you should know about my family. I never told you the full truth. I never told anyone, because…" She rubs her face. "My mother worked for Intelligence. That's why we moved to Khal'kohachi."

"I know," Pike says. "It's in the locked segment of your 'fleet file."

"Is it?" Dael draws her brows together. "I only learned about it by chance, after her death. It took ages before someone officially admitted to me that she worked for them."

Pike waits a moment, then asks, "Have you never been angry about that? About her choice?"

"No, never. I loved living on Khal', until…" She waves her hand.

"You shouldn't choose Fed Intelligence because of your history," Pike says slowly. "Just as you shouldn't choose the 'fleet because of me."

She tilts her head to the side, brushing through her short hair, suddenly looking damn young and damn tired. "If I accept the offer… would that be the end of us?"

Her direct question catches him by surprise, and he can't help answering it truthfully. "Can't say I didn't think about it for a moment. I always disliked John going this route. I'm not sure I can really live with you doing the same." Pike swallows. "But I'll try. I can see its merits for you. It's your life, and you shouldn't make choices because of my preferences but because of yours."

"But you hate it," she states.

"It has me concerned, yes. Still, if you'd like to take this special assignment, go for it. I'm sure it will be a unique experience. And afterwards, you'll be able to make an informed choice on the matter." He forces a smile on his face. "So — do we have any plans for dinner?"

She allows him to change the course of the discussion, and he's glad about it. If he's going to lose her (he hates the thought but he can't stop having it in the back of his mind), then he might as well enjoy the time they have together.

*

Dael doesn't bring up the subject with him the next day, and he's not very surprised — though also not very happy — to find out that she talks with Jim instead. In fact, he stands next to the door to his home office, dropping an ear on their conversation for a moment before forcing himself to walk away. They all have a right to their privacy… and he exerts the same a few hours later, when he finally reaches the doc.

"This is about Dael, isn't it?" McCoy says.

"Did Jim tell you about it?"

"That she'd been offered a training mission by Fed Intelligence, yes." McCoy gives him a thoughtful look. "She's quite determined to take up the offer, and Jim is all for it. Don't know if you remembered his first mission, but it was on that backwater research station…"

Pike nods. "Pillar 3." Back then, the first assignment was only four weeks long, but from the sound of it, Jim had hated every single second on that station.

"For all I know, the commander had been a special brand of bureaucratic asshole and with some unexplained antipathy to anyone named Kirk, but it had left a big impression on Jim. Of course he thinks anything would be better than that."

"This mission would be a lot more dangerous than a space station."

"You sure? Intel likes to make everything sound cool and dangerous, but I bet they've got enough ships out there that drag along in everlasting boredom to pick up messenger buoys and listen to transmissions. They won't send a cadet into the thick of things."

"They want her because of her background, which would mean a mission with a focus on the Romulan Empire. Maybe even within Romulan space."

McCoy nods. "Still — I don't think they'll purposely endanger her. It's only a training mission, after all. They'll test her a little, of course, like they tested us, but I doubt it will get worse than that. "

Pike is anything but sure about that, but judging from McCoy's unconcerned reaction, he's the only overreacting party around and needs to calm the fuck down before he drives Dael away over this.

"If you think so," he says flatly, ending this part of the discussion from his side. "So — how are you, doc?"

McCoy barks a laugh. "You can be so charming when you're pissed, Chris. I love you too, honey."

Pike can't help smirking, his dark mood lifting considerably. "I'm sorry for making this chat all about Dael," he says, reaching out with his hand.

"It's really weighing heavily on you, isn't it?" McCoy asks.

"Yes, it is, but I'll get over it," Pike says. "Tell me what you did this week. Didn't hear from you for a while."

McCoy sighs, leaning closer to the cam. "Been a hard week, didn't have any real spare time. Today's the first day with just the normal routine."

"And then we call you and keep you busy with our problems."

"Oh, I'll see Jim in about ten minutes," McCoy says with a gleam in his eyes. "And we've got every intention to make it a really good night."

"Fine." Pike smiles, taking a deep breath as the feeling of love settles warmly in his chest. "Take care, both of you, and give him a kiss from me."

"Will do," McCoy says softly. "Love you, Chris."

"Love you too, Leonard."

The connection ends, and Pike feels as if a weight had been lifted from his chest. Not all of it — he still isn't happy with Dael's likely decision, but maybe it's not as bad as he fears. No reason to get worked up as much as he had been for the last twenty-four hours.

*

Friday passes quickly and they meet in the apartment rather early, getting ready for seeing the Esteban's. There's a slight, lingering tension between them due to Dael's still undecided mission offer but Pike tries to ignore for the sake of the evening's goal — improving his working relationship with Esteban.

"How is Mrs. Esteban?" Dael asks as she stands in front of her wardrobe.

"Nice, welcoming, motherly," Pike says, thinking back to his visit. "Conventional. There were other family members around, including their children. I assume that's going to be the case tonight too."

She pulls out something and turns to hold it to her front with one arm. He raises a brow in surprise as he realizes that it's a pinafore dress in medium grey, with a high-collared, long-sleeved shirt underneath.

"This, with black leggings?" she asks.

He tilts his head, "Hmm, yes."

"Not good?"

"Oh, it is, I just didn't know you had a dress like this."

She shrugs. "Jim and I saw it on our last day, and he insisted on buying it for me. So, you think it's conventional enough to meet Mrs. Esteban's taste?"

"Definitely." It's actually quite perfect for the event; decent enough, hiding her chest tattoos, adding a slight female touch, and still fitting to her usual style. Jim definitely has a great taste.

She nods and occupies the bathroom, while Pike dresses in a white silk shirt and an otherwise dark-grey ensemble, which would match her looks.

When she steps out, he's surprised to find her tattoos covered, which she rarely does in his company anymore.

"Not sure the Esteban's are _that_ conventional," Pike says. "You didn't cover them up for months, any special reason why you started again lately?" It hasn't escaped his notice that aside from the trip to the club with John and Eric, she also leaves the house with covered tattoos once in a while, and he really doesn't want her to feel the need for hiding.

"I feel like it," Dael says. "In the past, the makeup often looked like a mask because I didn't know better, but now I've got this new cream and a better grasp on making it look good — don't you like it?"

The light in the corridor isn't very bright, so he pulls her back to the bathroom and scrutinizes her features. Indeed — this doesn't bear a large resemblance to the old makeup that she'd just plastered on her face. The new cream makes her skin look like porcelain, and with the skillfully applied mascara and lipstick, her face looks unusually _normal_.

"It looks fine," he says, without his heart in it.

"But you don't really think so, do you?" Dael asks flatly.

"Maybe it's egoistic to say that, but I prefer you to be extraordinary. At least when we're out together." He puts his hands on her shoulders. "Your tattoos are something special to me, and always will be."

She sighs. "Not everybody shares your taste, Christopher. Sometimes, I just want to look ordinary."

He shakes his head and laughs, thinking of the many photographs that show her innate beauty. The tattoos might change her appearance, but nothing could ruin her model-like features. "You never look ordinary, darling. From any angle."

"Ordinary enough for them." Dael looks at him. "I know that Esteban doesn't like me, so I want to make a good impression tonight."

"It's not about like or dislike, he just thinks I'm a bad influence on you," Pike says lightly. "And I'm very sure we'll leave a good impression tonight. Let's fake being a normal, straight couple going out to meet friends. We can do that for a few hours, right?"

"I'll try," Dael says, smiling a little.

*

The trip is short, as they use his beam account to get delivered in front of Esteban's house. Once they're materialized, Dael looks up and down the suburban lanes with their lined-up little houses, built a hundred years ago.

"Like it?" Pike asks.

She shakes her head. "It's a bit unreal. I didn't think people still lived like this."

Unusual for her, she captures his hand as they walk to their door. "I'm glad I covered them up," she mutters, right before Mrs. Esteban opens the door. Pike remembers the woman well from the evening he'd visited the family, back when Esteban had commanded the very first Borg mission to explore their history in the Alpha quadrant. He shakes the woman's hand before introducing Dael.

Mrs. Esteban smiles welcoming as she firmly takes Dael's hand, then shows them in. Like last time, other family members are attending, aside from the three small children, and they get introduced to all: Esteban's brother, wife and small daughter, Mrs. Esteban's old mother, and a young cousin called Lise who's come to live with them for the winter to work on her Starfleet application. The teenage girl is visibly nervous about the illustrious guests but relaxes when Dael exchanges some friendly words with her, although Pike notices that Dael isn't very relaxed either.

The meal and the subsequent coffee pass uneventfully, aside from the fact that children at the table have an incredible capacity to engage the focus of all attending adults, not exactly to Pike's liking. But as with Tom's children, Dael has a talent for taming them without falling into the annoying trap of baby-talking, and puts extra effort in keeping the children out of his range.

The evening moves on without any obvious problems. Pike lengthily speaks with Esteban's sister-in-law, who's writing a dissertation on hypodronic installations. Dael is seated next to the aspiring 'fleet candidate and recounts some academy anecdotes, while the Esteban's five-year-old daughter sits in her lap and draws something on a paper on the low table in front of them. It's a surprisingly sweet picture, and when Dael catches his gaze on her for a moment, she smiles happily. It suddenly brings Kirk's statement from their last vacation to Pike's mind:

 _"I could even see us on a farm, the three or four of us, having horses and some land and children. They could be Dael's or someone else's, maybe adopted — it's not about biology, it would be about what we feel for each other and for them. Think about it!"  
_  
Pike is all for the farm idea although he doubts it will ever come to pass in his lifetime — but that thing with children…

"Are you enjoying the evening?" Mrs. Esteban suddenly says at his side, and he turns his focus towards her.

"Oh yes," he says. "Thanks for the invitation." For a moment, there's a pause in most talks, and Dael's voice chimes in, clearly audible.

"Of course the academy is stressful but I've worked in the _Silver Barracuda_ for a while, and it was a good diversion from all the learning."

All adults fall silent, the eyes of the family members coming to rest on Dael. As she notices the sudden drop in background noise, she looks up with a questioning gaze.

"It's definitely not standard for cadets to work in that kind of clubs," Esteban says stiffly. "I'm glad to know that you stopped working there, Dael."

"It's a licensed night club," Dael says defensively. "It's like working in any other bar, but the times agreed better with my class schedule."

"I'm sure your mentor would have been able to propose a better working place for you," Mrs. Esteban adds, her well-meaning gaze resting on Pike.

He meets Dael's eyes, and she rolls them a little. Maybe they could pretend being majority-defined _normal_ for a few hours, but there are limits to his willingness to do so.

"I actually encouraged her to work there," Pike says consequently. "She needed to get out more, see people outside of the Academy who wouldn't judge her by their usual shallow standards."

He sorely regrets that Dael has covered up the tattoos. They'd never fit into the Esteban's world view, where the husband might sail out to find strange new worlds, but the rest of the family stays safely at home, living in their cocoon of normalcy and small-town-life. Having Dael show her true look might have made a change and displayed more of the diversity they actually represent.

"I thought it was a sex club," Lise says, blushing furiously the second the words are out.

"It might be a sex club, but it's not a brothel," Dael replies unusually impulsively.

For a moment even Pike is a little shocked, but then amusement wins out. He sees the old Mrs. Esteban's chin drop over the word; he almost waits for the adults to run and cover the ears of their children, and sure enough the kids are soon ushered out of the room. The climate in the room has cooled down considerably, as Dael, bereft of the small girl in her lap, gets up and joins him. He puts his arm around her tense shoulder. They'd kept apart most of the evening, trying not to broadcast their relationship too much, but now he feels like making a point. They aren't just any straight couple, and he'd never again try and pretend it. Lesson learned.

"Guess we should go home," he says. "It's getting late." Actually, it isn't but from the look on everyone's face, they'd all be relieved when this dinner invitation ends.

Esteban brings them to the door.

"Thanks for the invitation," Pike says. "It's been — interesting."

"Definitely," Esteban says stiffly. "See you on Monday." As the man opens the door, they find another couple waiting in front of it, just having arrived.

"My sister Marian, her husband Jack," Esteban introduces them quickly. "Admiral Pike and his partner Dael."

"Are you leaving already?" Esteban's sister says, eyeing them intensely. "I've been looking forward to speaking with you."

"Another time, maybe. We already claimed your family's hospitality excessively," Pike says smoothly.

"What a pity," the woman says, nodding at Dael. "Well, then good night and safe ride home."

Minutes later, they're back in front of their own apartment house.

*

"What the fuck," Pike says as they've made it a few steps, both not ready to go in yet. The air is crisp, autumn signaling its arrival, and he draws his jacket a little tighter around his chest.

"I'm sorry for having mentioned the club," Dael says, more distressed than she'd let on in Esteban's house.

"Fine by me." Pike shrugs. "Bigoted assholes."

"But you'll have to keep working with him."

"And he with me. We've dealt with our differences in opinion already for a while; we'll manage."

"Oh." She leans against him with a sigh, and he pulls her close, putting a kiss on her forehead.

They walk the nightly streets in silence for a while, until she quietly says, "I've made up my mind."

He doesn't need to ask what about. "And?"

"I'll accept the offer."

He nods solemnly. "Good."

"I'm sorry," she says and halts her steps.

"Don't apologize for being who you are, and doing what you need to do," he says, trying to tame the numb feeling that rises inside of him.

She looks at him. "But —"

"Don't." He understands that she feels like elaborating, but he can do without. If he still were her mentor, he might have had his misgivings but overall, he would have advised her to accept this interesting, unusual offer. As her partner, he can't do any less.

"Even if I chose another mission I'd still be away for three months —"

"I said, don't," Pike says firmly. He might be supremely self-sacrificing when it comes to Dael, just as John accused him once, but this is about her life, not about his that is constantly veering at the edge of death and decay.

However, he could still do his best to be a part of her life for a while longer. "You do what you need to do, and then you come back to me. If you still want to."

"Of course I will," she mutters and takes a stronger hold on him. "I love you."

"I love you too," he replies and puts another kiss on her forehead. "How about going in? I'm freezing."

Through the dark, he can see her squinting at him with a frown. "It's not that cold."

"It feels cold to me. Come on." They start moving again, and he doesn't unlace from their embrace when their neighbors join them in the turbolift, the middle-aged couple who still nurtures the idea that Dael is his daughter. He faces their strange gaze squarely for a moment, then half-turns and kisses a very surprised but obliging Dael fully on her lips. When the door of the lift opens, he breaks away and says, "She's my girlfriend. Just so you know." The couple is completely at loss for words as he passes them with Dael in his arm.

Under his palm, he can feel her trembling, and once they're in their apartment, he lets her go. "Everything all right?" he asks concerned, and then smirks as she sags against the wall and starts giggling.

"Christopher! The poor people!" She shakes her head, and then convulses with laughter. He joins in, laughing until his chest hurts. It takes them a while before they make it from the corridor to the bedroom.

"Did you see her face?" Dael says when she finds her breath again. "I thought her eyes would pop out." She gets out of her clothes.

"He was too surprised to say anything, but I wonder what he'll do next time we meet," Pike says, undressing swiftly too.

Dael flops down on the bed. "If he's with his wife, he'll criticize you. If you meet him alone, he'll congratulate you on your sexy young girlfriend."

Not exactly Pike's major criterion why he's with her, but he can see her point as he looks at her sinfully inviting body with a smile. He nudges his already half-hard member for a moment, the irritations of the evening quickly fading away over the prospect of a great night with the woman he loves.

"Oh, I should remove the cream," she adds with a sigh. "Don't want to spoil the bedding."

"I'm all for spoiling the bedding," he says and kneels down next to her, running his hands over her hips and along her crack. She giggles again, then rolls over to reach out for their collection of protective lubes.

"Vanilla?"

"Fine by me," he says, though nothing he's got in mind for them is of the vanilla variety, and starts kissing the black lines on her chest.

*

Something unfurls inside of him when Pike finds an invitation to a reception at the Vulcan embassy in his message folder a few evenings later. He'd waited for a chance to have Dael escorting him to an official occasion, and this is the perfect hook.

He walks into the kitchen where Dael is experimenting with something she didn't want to reveal beforehand. "Did you get an invitation to the Vulcans' reception too?"

"Yes," she says distracted, eyes on the pot.

"I want us to attend together."

"Didn't Nogura forbid you from bringing me along to such events?" Dael asks, looking at him with a wary gaze.

"As long as you've got your own invitation, he couldn't stop us without looking like the asshole he is regarding our relationship." Pike pulls her in a light embrace, kissing her patterned forehead which is slick from sweat in the overheated kitchen.

She looks at him. "I already declined." There's guilt in her eyes.

His arm around her waistline drops a little. "Why?"

"I was advised to keep out of the spotlight for a while."

Pike draws away. "By Nogura or the press office?" he asks coolly.

"By neither," she replies. "By the advisor for my training mission."

 _So you already let Intelligence influence our way of living?_ springs to Pike's mind, accusing and wounded. It must reflect on his face, considering the way her expression of guilt deepens.

"I'm sorry," Dael says, capturing his hand. "I thought it would be no big deal, considering Nogura's opinion. But if you really want us to go —"

"No, I guess it's better this way then," he states, jaw tight. Unwilling to show the true depth of his hurt feelings, he looks into the pot. "What are you cooking here anyway?" he says lightly, and takes a spoon against her protest to test the food in advance. Soon he has her thoroughly distracted from the original discussion.

*

Shaa becomes Head of Ship Operations, which isn't a big surprise at this point. Although not everyone is in favor of her, general consensus is that it had been necessary to fill the position with someone with a strong personality, something Shaa definitely has. It brings various changes to the departments.

Pike himself is called to Nogura's office to be introduced to Lieutenant Thelin, one of Shaa's younger clan members, and told that the young Andorian would be assigned to the task force. His role would be to work hand in hand with Captain Esteban until the _Pathfinder_ launch, and to support Pike in the strategic analysis of the Borg threat.

Pike doesn't like to have spies in his team, not even when they come in the disguise of a promising young alien that looks at him in a way that leaves Pike wondering whether Shaa has some underlying motive in choosing the lieutenant. Well, if so then she's fucked, because he's taken and she should have known.

His musing about her motivations intensifies over the first task force meeting with Thelin attending, who turns out just as bright and strangely attractive as Pike has feared. Shaa is a tactical genius and he's sure she knows his dossier as well as he knows hers. So if he assumes Thelin is intended as a bait of some kind… but it just doesn't fit. Four is the Andorians' golden relationship number, and interfering with his relationship, which is common knowledge by now, should be opposed to everything that's holy to them.

Pike isn't sure what Shaa is up to, but he's got a bad feeling about the development.

*

"I liked you better while you stayed out of business decisions," Ole grouses at Pike when they leave the house, walking down the stairways into the nightly city. "Three hours with some goddamn idiots who don't know a number from Vulcan script. It'll be a miracle of galactic proportions if we survive this ball."

The meeting with the other fifteen club owners who'd participate in the organization of the Rainbow Ball had been… enlightening, is probably the best word. Aside from Arissa and a few people who seemed reliable and dedicated to the cause, a fair number of them had only their own advantages in mind and spared little thought for the actual effect the ball should have, celebrating diversity.

It had also been a slightly unplanned outing, as only few of the attendees had known about Pike's ownership of the ' _99 Idaho_ ' (still named by its former location, though it has moved once). People had stared and whispered once when they'd realized who hides behind "Chris", as Arissa had introduced him.

"It will be fine," Pike says, pacifying. "Come on, let's have a drink." He steers Ole into a random bar, and they take a seat and have a beer together. Dael had stayed with Arissa; while she isn't officially working for her anymore, helping her former boss organize this special event had been high up on Dael's agenda, despite her full timetable. It gives Pike the room for a little private chat with Ole.

"Speaking of the business, I lately thought that a queer night once a month would be nice."

"Queer?" Ole raises a brow. "Nobody uses that word anymore."

Pike shrugs. "You know what I mean. A night for people of all genders who identify as non-straight."

"And you'd be attending with your leading lady?" Ole asks sardonically.

"You really don't like women, do you?" Pike asks back.

Ole downs his beer. "I don't care about them, if that's what you mean. And you didn't either before you hooked up with the girl. You've been perfectly fine with the club being men-only for the longest time. If you let them in, it will change its character, even if it's only for one night."

"So that's a _no_ to my suggestion?"

"You're the boss," Ole states coolly. "If you say you want it, we're going to do it. Just like the Rainbow Ball." He gets up. "Got enough for tonight. See you around."

"Damn, Ole, we're _partners_ ," Pike says annoyed, but by then the man has already left. He slaps the table in frustration. Why does the universe at large feel inclined to work against him? He must be doing something wrong but _hell_ if he knows what that is and how to fix it.

*

While life in general offers some challenges for him, his relationship life is fine except for the four of them just not managing as many chats as Pike would like, despite the lingering ache after every sign-off. The _Enterprise_ is in and out of the range for real time transmissions too often lately, and more than once they're left alone on the line, waiting for Kirk and McCoy in vain.

Tonight, their first explicit joined sex date is planned but after waiting for an hour, they give up and decide to start, both too frustrated and aroused at the same time to keep their hands from each other.

"What do you want?" Dael asks him as she leans over him, one hand already deep up his ass, just a tad away from getting her knuckles in for a full fisting. "Would you like to get fucked? Ride my cock?"

He cradles his hard-on, spreading his folded legs a little wider. They've done it that way round a few times since their men had left, and while it's still not his favorite activity with Dael, it's far from being a bad thing. "You're just teasing, or do you really want to do something about it?"

Without warning, she pulls her hand out, making him gasp. "Turn around, get on all fours," she orders him, and he obeys, curling forward with his forehead on his laced arms, his ass high up in the air. There's the faint noise of her picking up her dick, and then her hand is back on him, slipping in and out, mocking him with allusions of the real thing.

"As I said, just a tease," he mutters challengingly although his breathing is rather labored by now.

"A tease?" she says, and screws her stretched-out hand into his hole, withdrawing and repeating the act until her hand is finally slipping inside, her fingers curling into a fist.

He moans on the sudden fullness and the strange feelings that come with it; he feels open and vulnerable in this position, his usual strength rendered useless by the handle she has on him. Maybe that's why he's not as often into it as she would prefer.

"You like my teasing?" she says very sweetly, slowly rotating her fist a little which doesn't exactly evoke good feelings.

He gasps. "I'd still rather like a fuck."

Her fist pulls out a little, stretching his muscle from within, while her other fingers curl around his sack's top, stretching it downwards. "Do you?"

At times she's become almost a little too self-confident for his taste. Not that she'd ever been a blushing virgin in bed, but somehow she'd seen too many inspirational actions during their last vacation. He's not ready — maybe never — to grant her quite the same rights as the doc has; maybe it's about a man, or maybe just about Leonard, but giving in to her still has something strange about it.

"Please, Dael," he says, and it's strangled and more of a plea than he'd wanted it to be. His intestines relax as the tightness ends, her fingers drawing out.

"Why the hurry?" she asks in his ear, her body draped over his back, two of her fingers settling back in his hole. "I just want to make it good for you."

"You know what I want." He wants a fuck, plain and simple, a dick pounding into him, flesh against flesh with every push forward that makes him forget that he wants someone he can't get right now, not even on a goddamn real-time transmission. His emotions are edging along a shitty rollercoaster and this is the only way to get off without fallout.

"All right," she suddenly relents, making him wonder if she picked up his mood, and then her fingers are gone and her cock slides in, large and hard, unyieldingly piercing into his slightly raw asshole.

 _This. This is what he needs.  
_  
He leans back against her, driving her member even deeper into his body — and freezes as the long-awaited transmission suddenly comes in.

"Not now," Pike groans but Dael accepts, even though sound-only from their side.

"Hey lovelies," Kirk says as the screen comes alive. Kirk and McCoy lay on the bed, their naked bodies and puffy lips leaving little to assume. "Sorry for being so late. We had some technical problems. The line is super-protected — give us visuals. Pretty, please?"

"No," Pike says again, but _damn_ if she doesn't switch them on anyway. Sometimes he'd dreamed about this kind of erotic transmissions, but _hell_ if he wanted to be featured with a dick in his ass right at this moment. He hangs his head, surprisingly unwilling to face them.

"Ah, what a lovely sight," the doc's voice resounds, its hushed quality signaling his arousal. "Come on, Chris, let us see you ride her. Let us watch."

He rolls his head to the side, trying to keep out of sight of the cam but his needy body bucks back against Dael anyway, quite out of his control. Her hands are on his hips and she holds her own, pushing into him hard enough to make him moan.

"Lord, yes, Dael, sweetie, ride him," the doc's voice says. "Chris, come on, look at me, look at us, see how Jim's climbing on me and riding me too, fuck hell." The sounds coming from their side leave little to assume and finally compel Pike to look up, catching a glimpse of Kirk's muscular ass riding up and down the doc's length. The hotness from the screen multiplies his own arousal, and he gives up trying to hold back. He fucks himself hard on Dael's cock, until he's close, his breathes coming rasped and harsh — then she suddenly pulls him upwards, his back against her chest. He whimpers as the dildo gets embedded in his ass up to the hilt, causing some discomfort.

"Give yourself a hand, Chris," the doc says, and Pike glances up to see McCoy's flushed face. "Imagine it's Jim putting his lovely mouth on you. Ah fuck, what an image, you in the middle of the sandwich, fucked and sucked from both sides." The image seems to be enough to drive Kirk to orgasm, and he comes with broken little noises, shoving down and pulling back up a few more times before sagging forward to catch his breath.

McCoy doesn't give his husband a break, though, just rolls them over and spreads Jim's legs with strong hands before driving into his ass with verve, his gaze still locked with Pike's.

"Fuck —" It's too much, and Pike comes with a groan, arching against Dael's chest as he spurts over his fingers and the bedding.

"Yes, Chris, damnit, yes…" On the other side of the quadrant, McCoy follows swiftly, half-crushing the man beneath him. Once done, he rolls to the side and kisses Kirk open-mouthed.

Pike rests slack against Dael's upper body, her artificial cock still impaling him as her arms keep him from moving.

Kirk finds his voice again. "Come on, Chris, suck off her dick. I know you love that."

 _I do, but she doesn't_ , Pike thinks but when she releases her grip, he moves around anyway. Dael sinks on her back, her legs invitingly spread for him. As he looks at her, she wordlessly gestures him up into a kiss, then pushes him down again and laces her hands into his hair, making it absolutely clear what he's supposed to do.

 _Fuck yes_ , he thinks, and opens his jaw wide, giving in to the ride. She pushes deep into his mouth as she comes, dry-rocking against its bottom until her last waves of orgasm flitter away. He sags down on the mattress next to her, exhausted but still buzzing from arousal. On the screen, the two men are curled around each other.

"You know you can get them with ejaculation?" Kirk asks with a wink. "I think you should get one. I'll send you the shop's address. Just don't try chocolate sauce, it looks too much like shit to handle."

Pike groans, burying his face into the crook of Dael's neck. "That's an image I really didn't need, Jim."

McCoy slaps his husband's head. "Sorry for that," he apologizes over the screen.

"Not your fault."

"I fear our time's over," Kirk says. "Thanks for the wonderful time. We love you, Chris — we love you, Dael."

"Yeah. Love you both. Take care," McCoy chimes in, waving and smiling.

"We love you too," Pike says, Dael nodding and smiling. "Take care too."

They don't manage to get up anymore, just fall into a sleep full of happy dreams.

*

Pike's quiet hunt for a new, good assistant turns out to be a frustrating task. It seems as if every good candidate is taken, and the remaining ones are not convincing. Of five people he interviews, he can't see any of them running his office successfully.

The reason for this problem gets clearer when he overhears two people in the restroom of another floor exchanging the newest rumors about him, including a blown-up rendering of the club evening with Dael, John and Eric (they really need to keep to his private rooms in the future) and the wildly wrong idea that he would invite other cadets to his apartment to celebrate orgies together with his lovers. That he seems to be out of Nogura's favor leads to additional, malicious remarks about his stagnating career and his unclear responsibilities in the admiralty.

Ever since he'd come together with Kirk and McCoy, Pike had realized that he'd become part of the rumor mill, but these are new heights of defamation. He considers walking out of the stall and facing the men head-on, but then they've already left the restroom. And thinking it through, this looks like a fight he cannot win by confrontation. He'd have to find a better way to deal with this.

Disillusioned, Pike keeps the lousy assistant for now.

*

"Chris, would you have a moment for me?" Nogura says when he calls Pike to his office a day later. Pike can feel his heartbeat speeding up over the brief walk, wondering if Nogura had heard about the rumors and would ask for their level of truth. But when he joins the small gathering in Nogura's office, it's about a strategic decision in a sector barely anyone of the attendees had ever heard of.

It's an interesting little brain-storm they engage in, and it's interesting to meet Shaa in debate at last, see the way her mind ticks. She's definitely very good in tactics and has a perfect overview of the 'fleet situation as a whole, and is also willing to sacrifice a pawn on the way to winning the game, just as any good Andorian soldier would. Pike muses if that will raise the 'fleet losses, and hopes it won't have adverse effects on the _Enterprise_.

The impromptu meeting ends after only twenty-five minutes. "Thanks for helping out, Chris," Nogura says with a nod when they part at the door. "By the way, I read your latest reports. It's good to know your project is well on schedule. Keep up the good work." With these words, Pike is dismissed, and his tiny chance of having a few more words with Nogura in private is gone.

*

 _I'll come later_ , Ole's message blinks on his PADD, and Pike sighs. He's early to the meeting for the Rainbow Ball — actually, he doesn't even want to be here, not really having the time to deal with any more of the arrangements. But Ole keeps resisting their club's participation and so it ends being his job to show up at the gatherings and keep up appearances. The room above Arissa's club is still empty aside from him, and he takes a bottle of Coke and meanders around, thinking of the tasks waiting for him tomorrow while reading some of the old-fashioned posters.

A broad, tall man enters, and Pike smiles as he recognizes Joe Mercury, the owner of the _Blue Sun_ club. It'd been one of those clubs he'd driven to in the search of Dael after her brother's death and her disappearance; he'd always intended to go back to it one day, maybe with her, but hadn't made it so far.

They heartily shake hands.

"Joining in?" Pike asks.

Mercury barks a laugh that resonates in the room. "If I don't join in, this is going to end so bloody Earth-centric, I'm going to cry." Some people think the man has Klingons among his ancestors, and the rolling sound supports that idea. In any case, Mercury is a friend of a truly multi-cultural, multi-species surrounding, always supporting diversity. More than Pike does, admittedly.

"I heard that Romulan kid is yours?" Mercury asks while taking a bottle of Coke for himself. "The one Arissa had in tow when she coaxed me into participating in the ball organization. I don't like those tattoos, but she's got guts to walk around like that."

"She's neither Romulan nor a kid, but if you're talking about Dael, yes, she's one of my partners," Pike replies.

"One of them. I see." Mercury just nods. "Got a couple too, you'll probably meet some of them at the ball. So, how far are you with the planning? Did you get to the question of the buffet yet? I've got a few suggestions regarding the food — we absolutely need silicon-based snacks and hydrocarbon drinks, last time someone tried to give a mixed party, some of the guests almost starved to death."

Having Mercury take Pike's poly relationship in such a stride is a great relief; one he feels more keenly because of the many antagonistic reactions lately. They soon sit on a table, juggling new ideas until the others join them. The group is already diminished, some of club owners who'd been less than enthusiastic about the good cause of the ball not bothering to show up again.

"That's the nice thing about making it real work," Arissa states with a twinkle. "It weeds out the idiots." Dael sits next to her, smiling at Pike over the PADD on which she takes notes.

Ole never shows up, and Pike decides it doesn't matter.

*

A week later, the long overdue furniture for Jim's and Leonard's room arrives, and they get the old furniture moved back to Pike's old apartment, which smells stale by now.

"What are you going to do with it?" Dael asks him, and Pike shrugs somewhat helplessly. This had been his home for so long, he feels uncomfortable renting it out but can't imagine selling it either.

They drive back to their apartment and decorate the room for their lovers. It ends up looking surprisingly homey and comfy, a far cry from what Pike would've imagined them to prefer. Dael walks through it with the cam, before they sit on the bed together with champagne in their hands and film themselves while telling their men how much they miss them and that their room is waiting for them.

Several days later they get an audio file in reply, and the men's voices tremble a little when saying that they hadn't known how badly they'd missed a home on Earth until they got it.

That night, Pike gives head to Dael on the terrace, and when she sobs Jim's name in the end, he just holds her close for a while.

*

A few days later, Pike walks into his apartment and freezes as he hears voices — plural. He follows them into the kitchen, where Dael just puts kisses all over Caitleen's chest, both very naked. He's more stunned than they are.

"Didn't think you'd be coming that early today," Dael says, shielding Caitleen with her body. The other girl smiles, a soft red flush covering her features. _At least someone with a leftover shred of decency around_ , Pike thinks.

"A word with you, Dael," he says and turns on his heel, marching into his office.

"What's the matter?" she asks as she joins him. He throws her one of his shirts that hung over his chair, and with a frown she covers up.

"I don't want to have her here," he says.

"Oh," Dael replies, crossing her arms defiantly. "You mean, fucking someone else is okay as long as you don't see it?"

"That's not the point," Pike states. "Having her in my apartment in such a compromising situation just won't do."

Dael shakes her head in disbelief. "What became of _our_ apartment? I live here too."

"Yes, and I'm very glad about that. But she can't stay here. She's a cadet."

"I am a cadet too."

Pike bristles, the overheard discussion ringing in his ears. "You may not have noticed, but our relationship is only possible because of Nogura's support, and trust me, that was a strategic decision for him, not because he's in favor of it. Last thing I need right now is some internal commission accusing me of abusing my rank to gain sexual services from cadets."

"And you fear her father would bring on something if he knew we're here."

"If anyone brings on something, I want to be in a clean position. I don't want to make a statement about running into my girlfriend and her lover in the middle of a scene."

Dael huffs, but her glare recedes a little. "So where do you suppose we'd go? We can't meet at her home anymore, and I guess your old apartment is out."

"Find a hotel?"

"With whose credits?" Dael says.

"True, it would still be from my account, but at least not within my space," Pike replies. He takes a deep breath. "I'll leave again for now. When I return, I want her to be gone."

"And I?" she asks darkly.

"If you're here, I'll be happy. If not, I hope you'll have a nice evening and we see each other tomorrow." He leaves, annoyed both about the kids as well as himself, that he's reached the point where he thinks he needs to protect himself from potential charges.

The admiralty's building is largely empty as he returns to his office, sitting down with a sigh and forcing himself to tackle some work. After three hours he decides that he could probably give going home a second try. When he arrives, he opens the door cautiously, listening for any noises inside. It's very quiet, and with a subdued sigh he walks in. His heart makes a relieved leap when he finds Dael in the living room, curled on the couch and reading.

"Hey darling — glad you're here," he says and kisses her before slipping onto the place next to her, lacing one arm around her shoulder.

She puts the PADD aside. "I'm sorry. I didn't really think it through, what all this does to you and your reputation."

"You shouldn't. If I couldn't stand it, I wouldn't do it. But this situation today…"

"Was too much. I see that now." She brushes through his hair, drawing a line down his cheek. "I'll be more careful next time."

"And next time I'll be nicer when I've got something to complain about."

She smirks, her dimples deepening. "Maybe I like your authoritative voice."

"Yes, maybe." He knows their relationship wouldn't work if she couldn't stand him occasionally falling into CO behavior, but he doesn't want her to have a special preference for it either. It's too far out of his comfort zone due to the vast power difference between them, no matter how illusory the goal of complete equality might be.

"Bed?" he says, and she nods. There's nothing but her own light scent on her body, and no other smells on his sheets either, and he's really glad about that.

*

Time flies for Dael, who's helping Arissa with the ball preparations, racing through the last regular classes of the year and on top of that, taking part in some special trainings, like the interrogation camp that's usually a part of the third year but one of the requirements for her mission. She comes out of the one week class thinner and paler than Pike has ever seen her, withdrawing from the world — including him - for days. Although her special assignment is largely a non-subject between the four of them, by Dael's choice and Pike's preference, he can't help sending the doc a ranting message this time, wondering how blind Medical is not to see that she's on the edge of a breakdown.

" _They say she's fit_ ," is McCoy laconic answer, showing that the doc considers Pike's concerns for Dael's health coming in a little late. " _You could always place an official complaint._ "

They both know Pike wouldn't do that. Three days later Dael goes through the final security screening, and when it takes longer than expected, he skips a meeting and sits down in front of the office she's in, waiting for the outcome.

He's up to three skipped meetings when Dael walks out, her face deathly pale. "Fucking hell," he mutters as he jumps up to take her into an embrace, heedless of the few stares thrown their way.

 _Is that damn mission really worth this?_ The question rises in his throat but he swallows it because it's her choice and he'll defend her choices even if they're the way to doom.

"I'm okay, Christopher," she mutters against his shoulder at last. "I just hate Vulcans poking around in my head."

Intelligence uses various methods for the process, but the quickest, deepest and most uncomfortable is a scan by a telepath, usually a Vulcan. Pike would've thought that her experience on Vulcan had made mind melds easier for her than other humans, but maybe it had only made her dislike them more.

She pulls out of his arms, repeating. "I'm okay, really." And then she smiles, tired but victorious. "I passed. And it's been the last test. I fucking passed." Pushing her fist into thin air, she repeats, "I passed! No more tests!"

He's happy for her, he really is — but this also means she's going to go away in just five days, and he won't know where she goes and what she'll do there, and it kills him a little every time he thinks about it.

"Let's go celebrate," is what he says instead, glad when she takes his words at face value.

He's a better diplomat in his relationships than he's ever been on missions.

*

"We've got a date," he says when he calls Dael in the late afternoon three days before her departure. "You're free at 2100?"

"Yes."

"Meet me at the corner of California and Laurel Street."

When he arrives there, she's leaning against a house wall with arms loosely behind her back as buffer, her half-closed eyes and her posture signaling her exhaustion.

"Thanks for coming," he says and kisses her before leading her down Laurel Street and across a corner. They end in front of a closed shop with a sign that says, "G _oldberry, since 1967"_ , and Dael frowns a little as he rings the old-fashioned bell. Charisse Rogerson herself opens to them, greeting him with a familiar smile although he'd never met the illustrious heir to the design empire in person before. She's a lady through and through, perfectly fitting to the image of her company.

"Welcome, Miss Dael, Admiral Pike." They all shake hands before they walk inside, passing through beautifully decorated round rooms until they stop in the one that has rings all along the walls, sparkling in the subdued light.

"Please, take a seat," Rogerson says.

Pike wants to move forward as Dael stops him. "Christopher… what are we doing here?"

"Buying rings," he says as if it's the most normal thing in the world and frankly, in his head it's all settled already.

"Rings?" Dael says alerted, and warily looks at Rogerson.

"Please, leave us for a moment," Pike says and the woman nods and walks away, closing the door behind her.

Dael looks at him strangely. "Why?"

Pike captures her hands, holding them firmly. "I want us to have something to remind us of each other when you're away, and this is the symbol I felt to be the most appropriate."

She searches his eyes. "Does that mean what I think it means…?"

"Just a sign that we're together." Pike pulls her closer, although she resists a little.

"You should know by now that I don't like to be pressured into something like this," she says annoyed. "You could've asked me before bringing me here."

"I wanted it to be a surprise. And I only made up my own mind this morning, so it's not as if I had a lot of time to ask you."

She shakes her head with an exaggerated sigh, but then a tiny smile grows on her lips. "You want to tag me. Make sure that others know that I'm taken."

"A bit, maybe," Pike admits. "But this doesn't change a thing. I want you, but I don't own you. You're always free to make your own choices, in every regard."

She laces one hand into his hair, gently guiding his face to rest on her shoulder, his lips on her collarbone. "I know what you really want," she says very softly, stroking his neck. "Thanks for not asking for it." Her lips are gentle on his forehead, as if he'd break under too much pressure.

"I can't promise to wear it during the mission," she says.

"I know," he says against her cadet-red chest, his hands splayed on her back. "Wear it when you can, and come back with it in one piece. That's all I ask for."

Her heartbeat seems to gather speed, the only sound he hears in the long, lingering silence.

"All right. Let's buy them," she says at last and removes her hand. He looks up, brushing his fingers over her cheek before pulling her into a deep kiss.

"Thank you," he says, and if he feels a little brittle, maybe that's how it should be.

Pike wonders how to signal Rogerson their agreement, but she magically returns just in time, a deep smile on her dark-red lips. "Would you like to see the collection now?"

They both nod and take a seat.

*

And then it's suddenly a day before Dael's departure and one minute until the Rainbow Ball opens. Pike stands at the sideline next to Ole, watching Arissa whirling around with last minute orders before the doors open and a long row of people wind their way into the Grande Opera.

"Where's Dael?" Pike asks Arissa when he manages to catch her for a moment, and she shrugs. "Wanted to change clothes. Should be here any second."

They idly stand around for a few minutes at the passage between the entry hall and the ballroom, watching the influx of guests. "Looks like it's going to be a great evening," Pike says. He feels almost underdressed in his leather outfit, the classic chaps and the open vest combined with boots and leather jocks, but that's what he feels most comfortable in. Besides, he doesn't have to prove anything tonight.

"Hmm, yes," Ole supplies. Pike's business partner had resisted the ball almost until the last moment, but once he'd stepped through the door, the exciting atmosphere had caught up with him. Now Ole seems every bit inclined to enjoy the evening, and as one especially interesting piece of ass walks in, Ole graciously lifts one hand behind his head, showing off his perfect bodybuilder muscles beneath his khaki net shirt. Pike smirks as he watches the men exchange gazes. This would be quite a field day for Ole, who likes hunting fresh meat.

"Maybe your idea wasn't that bad," Ole relents as his eyes follow the next group of hot young men.

"Thank you." While Pike isn't on the hunt, he definitely enjoys the variety he sees tonight.

"Joe!" he greets the owner of the _Blue Sun_. The bear-sized man winks at him and comes over, a tiny Orion woman at his side.

"Meet one of my wives, Ranai," Mercury says. "You might know her, she's working on UP." He twinkles.

"Of course I know her. Lieutenant Ranai, I didn't know that you'd spend your shoreleave here," Pike says as he shakes the hand of one of Cho's engineers.

"I wanted to fly to Saturn, sir, but Joe insisted on this party. And it looks as if it's been a good idea." Ranai smiles deeply. "Come on, Joe, the admiral wants to enjoy the evening without feeling like he's under scrutiny from colleagues — and I want that too." With typical Orion directness, she says aloud what had crossed Pike's mind, and he nods. She passes him with Mercury in tow, and it looks rather funny how the broad-shouldered man follows her lead.

"Ole, did you know -?" he starts.

"Whoa," Ole says, interrupting his thought, and Pike turns his head. A gasp escapes his own lips as he sees Dael coming down the stairways from the room they've used for organizing; she's all in bright yellow, of all colors, a super-tight wet-look top with interesting cuts and laces barely covering her chest, a fitted skirt so short that it barely deserves the name, and high-heeled platform boots so well-chosen that when she stands in front of him, she's a little taller than him. It's strange to look up in her face, but also fucking hot. He slips his hands under her skirt and pulls her into a kiss. Even her tattoos seem to shimmer in new, exciting colors, sparkling in the lights of hall.

"Do you like it?" she asks a little breathlessly. Skimming her ass with his hands and glad that she's got some tiny underwear beneath it, he shakes his head. "Too hot," he whispers in her ear but smirks as he withdraws. "What happened to _keeping out of the spotlight_?"

"Thought I'd skip that for tonight," she says with a wink, pressing her groin against his. Their heights are just perfect for fucking, and he automatically pulls her close, nudging his growing erection between her legs. The rhythm of the music catches them, and they move on the spot, kissing and rubbing against each other until she breaks apart. "I really need to help Arissa some more."

"Damn," he groans but lets her go, one hand still lingering on her ass. "When are you going to be free?"

"In an hour, I hope. Just some last-minute things." She laughs and walks away, the tiny skirt swinging with every step. He hadn't even know she could walk in shoes like that, and he wouldn't have guessed either that it would be such a hot visual turn-on for him.

 _Hello fetish he never knew he had.  
_  
Ole gives him an appreciating eyebrow, then waves and points towards the dance floor, gone a second later.

Pike walks through the ball room and along the bars, greeting and being greeted by various people. "Hey, Chris," someone calls him and he turns to find Farnham and Eric. They welcome him with hugs and kisses which he readily answers. He isn't completely over the fact yet that his old friend had played a role in Dael's recruitment for Intelligence, but his overall mood is too good right now to hold the grudge. This night is for hot action, no holds barred, and he wouldn't mind a repetition of their club evening or variations of the theme.

"How do you like it?" Pike asks, his hands on their shoulders.

"Fabulous. You should organize something like that more often."

"It was Arissa's idea, not mine," Pike says, unwilling to claim this unearned praise. "The owner of the _Silver Barracuda_. The woman over there with the long red curls, next to Dael." He nods towards their position.

"Oh," Eric says, his eyes widening. "I think I've met her before. And whoa, that's De?" The young man squints. "Fabulous. You were right, Chris. She really is a woman. But I still like the guy she can be."

Dael waves over to them, signaling that the two women would be occupied a little longer, so Pike allows his friends to drag him away for a non-alcoholic drink, relaxed and happy between them. Sometimes, when Dael passes them, she stops for a moment and sips from his drink and flirts both with him and Eric, for good measure. Pike is unable to keep his hands from slipping under her skirt, almost annoyed that he'd never even tried to get her into an outfit like this, considering the effect on his dick.

"Feeling good, aren't you?" Farnham whispers in his ear, one hand snug against Pike's bulge.

"Absolutely," Pike says, taking the surprising attack of Eric's mouth on his nipples with equanimity — at least for a second, before the touches are just too fucking arousing and he moans into them. Soon the three of them are practically making out at the bar; not exactly something he would've favored in the past, but he's just as unable to keep his own hands off his friends' bodies. At least it's rather dark now, and the loud music swallows any sounds. He's ready to accept that these two are more to him than just friends and occasional lovers, gives in to the feeling of love that surrounds him as they take him into their middle.

"Finally," someone says next to him, startling them all a little and ending the scene. Pike opens his eyes to find Arissa and Dael.

"Finally we've got time for our own fun," Arissa says. "And I see, we've got to do some catching-up, right, sweetie?" she adds with a smile at Eric, who blushes under her gaze. Pike files the young man's amusing reaction away for future consideration, before something else catches his interest. The way Arissa is draped over Dael, the way her arms are laced around Dael's hips…

"Something I should know here?" he says. "Thought you keep away from you personnel." Dael encounters his questioning gaze openly, looking neither nervous nor contrite.

"Right, I don't touch my personnel," Arissa says and leans her chin on Dael's shoulder. "But she isn't my barkeep anymore, as you well know." She looks at him expectantly, a silent _come on, say something_ in her eyes.

He needs a second to adjust his brain; he hadn't seen this coming at all but watching them together now…is perfectly fine by him. He's not sure why, when he had all kinds of misgivings about Caitleen, but Arissa is grown-up and experienced, and he likes to think she knows her own emotions and plays fair. At last he answers their questioning gazes with a smile. "Do I lose gay points when I say that you look hot together?"

"Totally," Arissa smirks back. "Getting predictable and straight in your old days."

"I like to think I get better and cooler all the time." He turns his head when he feels a hand on his ass, or more precisely on the strip of naked air between the jocks and his chaps. "May I have this dance?" Farnham asks from the seat behind him, eyes on Dael.

"Do I lose lesbian points when I say that you look hot together?" Arissa says, which makes Dael slap her hand a little. "You may," Dael replies to Farnham and before Pike can complain about getting bartered away like this, they're already dancing. As the dance floor is full, it's a very cozy dance, more like a slow fuck actually, and just as arousing.

"Did Arissa send you to get me away from Dael?" Pike asks amused.

Farnham smirks. "Just temporarily. The masterplan is that we all get each other in the end."

Pike looks around for Eric, and finds him in a rather intimate head-to-head with some long-haired guy.

"He's currently occupied but he'll join us later." Suddenly, Farnham stops. "Hey, where's your Academy ring gone…?" He pulls Pike's right hand between them, eyeing the new jewelry in detail before looking over to Dael. "Rings? It's really damn serious to you."

"It always was," Pike says, pushing them into moving again. "I bought two more rings," he adds says over the sound of the music. "They'll wait for Jim and the doc when they come back."

"It's a goddamn love story." Farnham shakes his head and grins, then leans forward into a kiss. Pike answers it, more than a little aroused from the evening so far.

The whole floor seems to inhale deeply when the next song starts, the uncontested hymn of all sexual minorities since the middle of the twentieth century, remixed and reworked more than any other song in thousand of languages by now, but always starting with the same, magic lines.

 _I am what I am  
I am my own, special creation  
_  
The movements are slow at first, everyone getting a feel for the song, the sharp, political statement behind the simple words.

 _I am what I am  
I don't want praise I don't want pity  
_  
Most people sing along now, moving in the rhythm of the song, something magical and timeless forming between them all. Dael meets his gaze, Arissa moving behind her, both hands on Dael's hips. They are singing, their voices drowned in the crowd but their lips moving, eyes half-closed.

_It's one life and there's no return and no deposit  
One life, so it's time to open up your closet _

Damn true, Pike thinks and leans back against Farnham, eyes still on Dael, the unexpected way she sings her heart out.

The crowd explodes, one large mass of heated bodies that exhales and inhales with every word like one large organism, exuding boundless love and belonging like nothing Pike has ever experienced before, and he's drunk on the feeling, everyone else's and his own, Dael suddenly in front of him and Farnham behind him, feeling fucking perfect and complete.

"I rented Loge 13," Arissa says breathlessly. "Let's move."

*

Dael is all spread out, slick from the first orgasm that had been Arissa's doing, her cheeks flushed and her lips slightly open, her smile inviting and daring. Pike crawls over her for a kiss, devouring her for a moment before drawing back, angling his rock-hard erection into position. He's teasing her at first, just nudging his head along her clit and the pushed-aside thong, gliding along the edge without entering until she hooks her legs around his butt and draws him towards her. With a sigh he sinks in, as slowly as he manages to, and she whimpers, a gorgeous sound. But before he can do more about it, hands on his hips still his movement. A slick finger glides down between his ass cheeks as Farnham bends over. "Want you, Chris. Want to fuck you into her."

Pike doesn't even think as he spreads his legs a little farther. "Yes," he breathes, and the finger breaches him instantly. There's barely any resistance, he feels wide and ready and _goddamn_ he wants the real thing right _fucking_ now. Underneath him, Dael wiggles her hips, using her chance at teasing him when he can't quite move.

"Come on," he says back over his shoulder when Farnham seems inclined to go through a lengthy preparation as if he were some virgin. "Fuck me."

He feels Farnham's weight shifting, the grip leaving one side and returning on the other, a dick getting wiped up and down his crack, tickling his perineum before finding the right spot.

Pike sinks forward with a groan as Farnham enters him forcefully, _just right_ , _just what he needs_ , and he braces his arms to keep Dael from getting crushed by the added weight. She looks fine though, eyes closed and an excited smile on her half-opened lips. Her breathing turns quick and sharp as Farnham starts moving, rhythmically pulling him slightly out of her before pushing back in. They moan in unison, higher and darker voices, and it takes Pike a moment before he realizes that they're not the only one making noises here. Next to them, Eric kneels over Arissa and rides her large dildo with long, deep, movements. His dick in front of a heavy cockring is almost purple and leaking with every bounce, a wet spot on Arissa's naked belly. This really looks as if Eric has met her before, and he'd definitely ask about it later.

"Oh, fuck," he gasps as the arousing images get pushed out of his focus by an especially deep thrust. So damn good, he almost can't believe they've never done that before.

"You're so beautiful," Farnham rasps and leans over, pressing Pike into Dael. "Chris, god, Chris… you're so hot."

Pike is a little out of it by now, wiped away by the fucking perfect feel of Farnham behind and Dael under him, cheek to cheek riding this high together. He's so close and yet so far, captured on a plateau of incredible arousal, all of his body buzzing and vibrating, incredibly alive. Lips on his cheeks and hands on his hips, a muscular body pressing into his, leading the way into what feels like an absolute mind wiper of an orgasm. As the dam breaks, he's helplessly rutting into Dael, sobbing in her embrace as the waves crush him, taking his breath away until he almost blacks out.

"Chris, fuck…" From behind, Farnham strokes his back and down his upper arms as Pike slowly comes back to himself. "Come on, lick her clean, Chris. Let me see how you good are with your tongue."

They both scoot backwards, Pike kind of realizing that Farnham hasn't come yet as he moves down her body, licking along Dael's clit. She tastes of him, and he sucks around her heated spot before piercing her with his tongue, rolling it inside of her. His concentration is rather impeded by Farnham still rocking into him and the noises he hears next to him, another woman having a good time. He's actually too busy to look up but when Dael moves a little, he glances up and sees them kissing, Arissa and Dael, and while it's usually not a picture that would turn him on, in this moment when all is bathed in a sweet hormonal rush, he's swept away by it.

Dael comes beneath him, rocking her pelvis to meet his hungry mouth, and Farnham joins in this time, pushing deep into Pike. Arissa follows swiftly, her subdued cry like the final highlight. They all end depleted on the bed, limbs laced, hands still touching.

The exhaustion doesn't last very long, as they're all too aroused to be satiated with just one round. Farnham moves first, crawling between Eric's stretched-out legs and pulling the ass cheeks aside to give his lover a rim job.

Pike feels his dick stirring against Dael's hip, and he really, badly wants to fuck her. After a little rearrangement and a healthy portion of lube in her ass, they end in almost the same position they'd once had with Jim, Pike's cock deep in her tight hole and Arissa's dick up her pussy. Arissa's fingers seem to have some lesbian magic because she makes Dael come in a row of many sweet, hot orgasms that leave Dael absolutely done, and Pike is quite envious about that power. At last Arissa withdraws and Pike rolls Dael over, needing only a few pushes to come to his own climax.

*

It's much later, when they're really quite done and needing a break, that Pike sits next to Arissa, having a drink with her. His relationship with her is a little strange now, somehow. He really likes her as a person, and he's got no problem with her giving Dael (and Eric, for the matter) a good time, but when she'd tried to kiss him during their sandwich with Dael, he'd signaled _stop_ , which she'd instantly noted and accepted. There's a limit of how far he wants to be connected with her, and a part of him is a little annoyed about not having been informed about her relationship with Dael.

"That wasn't your first time with Dael, was it?" he asks.

"No," Arissa admits. "We got closer three weeks ago, in one of our office nights for the ball. I wanted her to tell you, but she thought it would be better to surprise you."

He looks over to Dael who's quietly talking to Eric in a non-sexual atmosphere. Farnham rests one arm around his lover from behind while taking a brief nap, a light snore in hanging in the air.

"And Eric?"

"A bondage workshop last year, where he'd been one of the subs." She twinkles and combs some red curls out of her face. "Ended a little different than he expected. I like to pervert cute gays like him."

Pike closes his eyes, massaging his forehead. Unbelievable how incestuous the kink community is, no matter how large the city.

"Got a problem with it?" Arissa asks.

"No," he says and looks up again. "I just would've liked to know. About Dael and you."

"Really?" Arissa searches his eyes. "Because somehow I got the impression from Dael that you'd rather not know some things."

"I want to know what's going on. Even if it hurts me." _Uh, wrong word choice_. "But this doesn't. Frankly, I better like her being with you than with — well, certain other women."

Arissa's gaze turns suddenly far too analytical to Pike's taste, and so he looks back to Dael, stating, "But anyway, she's got all the freedom she wants and it's her decision how to handle it. So, all fine."

Arissa laughs, shaking her head but not pushing any farther, only stating that she needs to look after her party. She dresses up and leaves the four of them.

*

Dael and Pike are home in the early morning hours, taking a brief detour to shower and change into uniform. There's not even time for a coffee before Pike grabs Dael's luggage despite her complaints that she can carry it fine on her own, and calls the beam point to have them delivered to the shuttle port.

The excited mood of the night that had already decreased after the parting from their friends now morphs into an almost-depression as they face each other in front of the entry point, sleep-deprived and with the sad knowledge that they'd part for three months in a few minutes. Not quite knowing what to say, Pike kisses her, slow and gentle.

"I'll try to keep in contact, but I'm not sure I'll be able to," she says.

"I'll know that you're alive as long as Farnham doesn't come to visit me with a serious face," he tries to joke, but it falls flat. "Take care of yourself."

"Sure. It's only a training mission."

He combs through her hair, remembering too many letters written over the death of a trainee. Even with every one of the crew trying to protect them, some get killed. He can only hope she won't be one of those. "All I want is your safe return. No matter what else happens. Promise me you'll come back to me, even if it's only to say good-bye."

"I hate it when you're so melodramatic," Dael says, biting her bottom lip and looking away to hide her moistening eyes. "I'll come back so you better wait for me. I'm not going to let you run away with some random guy without a fight."

The last call for boarding comes in through the speakers.

"Good." He draws her into a tight embrace, they kiss another time — and then she's gone with one last wave of her hand, god knows where to, and he walks away like dazed.

He would have given anything to be able to go with her.


	2. Chapter 2

The apartment had appeared empty when his men had left, but without Dael, it's agonizingly void of life.

This time around, Pike expected that feeling and made plans to counteract it, writing up a list of things that should engage his time and interest.

There are receptions to attend, colleagues to meet for lunches and dinners. The _Pathfinder_ upgrade is entering an interesting phase with the first test drive drawing close, and he also managed to talk the academy head into taking over an advanced two-week class on tactics for third year command track cadets.

In his private life, he's got a standing invitation by Farnham and Eric to join them for dinner and sex and has every intention to take them up on it. He also plans to see Tom and the kids and to have dinner with Nat once she's back from the extended off-planet trip she's currently undertaking with her husband.

On top of the list, though, there's something that's weighted on him for a while, and he decides to open a call right to the person who should be able to help with his problem.

The head of the language department instantly answers him. "Admiral Pike — to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Commander Z'han. I'm calling you on behalf of a personal request. I'm in need of a language coach — a personal instructor for Romulan, specifically, and I wonder if you could recommend someone to me."

Z'han gives him a polite half-smile. "For Romulan? Do you have any specific goal in mind?"

"I took a few courses way back in my own cadet years, and forgot most of it. I'd like to get back to a level where I can read and understand basic conversation." _And read that book on Romulan poetry Dael has on her nightstand.  
_  
"I'd want to have someone with a good background in Romulan life. Preferably someone who lived in the Romulan Empire for a while."

Z'han tilts his head. "We don't have many language instructors who would meet this requirement," he says carefully.

"Not many or none?" Pike asks.

"One, exactly, but I would not recommend him to you."

"Why not?"

"He is currently on probation and not much in favor of Starfleet administration."

"On probation for what?"

"That is classified information, though you could probably access it," Z'han replies.

"Give me his name," Pike demands, and notes down _Nicolai Asimov_.

Once the line is closed, he calls up the man's personnel file. Asimov was born in Moscow and grew up on a research vessel with his parents. It was captured and destroyed by Romulans on the claim of border line violation, landing the family and their teenage son in Romulan slavery for five years until their freedom could be bought with a major investment by fellow research colleagues and some institutions.

Soon afterwards, Asimov applied to the academy and went through it without problems, lauded by most of his instructors. Lieutenant after his third posting, he was heading forward on a straight career path that should've made him first officer within the next year, but was instead involved in a failed mission that ended with him and a fellow officer in front of a Starfleet board for deliberately risking the life of two ensigns.

Pike reads through some of the protocols, and he's been in Starfleet for long enough to know that Asimov's only error had been to get into the middle of opposing forces, in this case into an ongoing feud between the captain and the other officer, and then being a handy pawn on which to settle the fall-out of the mission gone wrong. Now under probation at the academy, it's no surprise that the man would distrust higher 'fleet ranks.

An amused smile dances on Pike's lips. He likes challenges, and if it helps to get a promising young officer through his probation without leaving the fleet, all the better.

*

 _Great pictures_ , Farnham writes and forwards him a press article about the Rainbow Ball which includes — among many other shots — a rather large one of Pike and Dael in a tight embrace, his hands half-hidden under her super-short skirt, one of her booted thighs between his leather-clad legs. Not exactly a decent position, Pike has to admit, nurturing a slightly guilty conscience for having put them on such a display. The Grande Opera has electronic distortion fields that should prevent unauthorized media recording, but it seems someone had managed to circumvent it. The article in full, however, is rather positive, touting the ball as a complete success and ending with the hope of a repetition.

Arissa links him to a gallery of pictures shot by accredited photographers, and he enjoys them a lot more, picking out a few decent ones to send to their men. Two of Dael and him alone, three of them together, and one with Farnham and Eric next to them.

 _I cannot believe she really wore yellow_ , Kirk writes. _Did you fuck her with or without those boots on? You left out all the dirty details in your last report.  
_  
 _You look fabulous together_ , the doc writes. _Can't get enough of you in black chaps.  
_  
 _Wish we'd been there_ , they both end with.

Pike heartily agrees.

*

"Am I off the hook?" Pike asks. It's Monday morning and he sits in Naaz' office, his animated brain in a hundred fancy colors thrown across the wall, the pulsing of its inner ticking a strange rhythm of life.

 _The hook_ is the still lingering threat of being subjected to the full inquisition at SFM, but he knows how to read her face and the images, and his brain is all good. Not perfect — never perfect since the Narada, but it's okay and stable, and the latter is the really important part. No changes over the last three months, nothing that points to any deterioration in his brain. Not even any sudden failures of his knee; lately he'd even stopped wearing the protectors.

"You are, for this week," she says a little threateningly, but then grins. "And I thought you might want to visit me for a while. Don't you get bored all alone at home?"

"Not bored enough to crave your special treatments."

"Fine by me." Naaz twinkles. "So I guess you won't complain when we go to monthly appointments for now?"

"Not at all." Pike feels a rush of relief —his self-control really had paid out this time, and this news is damn worth all the small moments of annoyance when his medical app issues yet another warning.

"Good. See you in a month, then." She waves him out, and he whistles as he half-dances down the stairways, shocking a few colleagues on his way who'd never seen _oh-so-serene_ Admiral Pike like this.

He wishes he could tell Dael who's under complete radio silence, but at least he can send a message to his men.

" _Great news, Chris_ ," the answer starts, followed by a few shots of them with various obscene hand gestures and one with their lips pressed to the cam in an almost freaky kiss picture, and a " _miss you, kiss you_ " line on the bottom. With a smile, Pike saves the message on his PADD, in the folder for things to look at on rainy days.

*

On Wednesday afternoon he joins the class "Romulan, Intermediate Conversation" to check in on the TA that's been recommended to him. Admittedly, Pike likes the effect his uniform has at times; even though he takes a seat in the very back, the cadets and instructor register his arrival and everyone straightens up in their chairs. He patiently sits through the hour, enjoying the break from his normal routine even though he doesn't understand a quarter of the conversation. When the class is over, everyone scrambles to their feet rather silently and leaves, their usual chatter subdued even outside in the corridor.

"May I help you, sir?" the TA asks when they're the only two people left.

"Lieutenant Asimov?"

"The same." The young man watches him as Pike gets up and walks to him.

"I'm Admiral Pike," he says and shakes Asimov's hand. "Your name came up when I asked Commander Z'han who might be suitable as my personal coach for Romulan."

"You need to learn Romulan?"

"Brush up, actually — but languages are my weak spot."

The young man forces a polite smile onto his face, probably thinking he's bullshitting but not inclined to contradict a high-ranking officer.

"Trust me, I'm terribly bad at languages, and my Romulan is more than rusty. But I'd like to improve, and I'd like to do so with you."

The man half-turns and plays around with his bag, his body language more than clear. "While I appreciate the commander throwing in my name, I don't think I'm the right man. I could recommend another teacher —"

"I heard you're the best — and the most interesting," Pike says, not ready to give up so quickly. "This isn't just about learning words; I want to know more about Romulan culture from someone who's experienced it."

That makes Asimov look up. "For what, comparing notes with —" He swallows the rest, but Pike completes it. "With Dael? Maybe. Do you know her?"

"I know her from sight, and from a few boards we both write on." The man's dislike for Dael is written all over his features.

 _This is getting really interesting.  
_  
Pike leans back against a table, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "You've got a problem with her?"

"She's a R'leth. A Romulan fancier," Asimov says and despite his best efforts, Pike can hear the condescension. It makes him only more curious.

"And that means what?"

"That means she has no clue about the real Romulan Empire," Asimov states almost angrily, and then takes a deep breath. "I apologize, sir. I know she's grown up in a colony where obviously milk and honey grew on trees until human marauders ruined it all, but fact is that she doesn't know a lot about Romulans as a whole."

"An interesting point of view," Pike says. "That's what she writes on open boards?"

"Yes. Under a pseudonym, but I found out that it's her by chance."

Pike badly wants to surf those boards — a welcome incentive to brush up his Romulan even faster. Asimov turns out to be an even better choice than he'd originally thought, and he decides to be very frank with him. He unlaces his arms, curling his hands around the edge of the table.

"Your opinion is noted. As you seem to be aware, Dael is my partner. Usually she lives with me but she's currently away on her first mission, presumably in the Romulan Empire. Upon her return, I want to be able to read and speak Romulan as fluently as possible. Whether she knows Romulans as you got to know them or not, it is a large part of her personal history, and I want to be able to connect with it.

"I want you to work with me, because you've been reported to be both an inspiring teacher as well as a promising young officer who, may I be frank, had the bad luck to be get in the way of others. I'd like to give you a chance."

"And if I please you, you'll help me to get my commission back?" Asimov says darkly. "Do I have to bend over for it too or do you prefer other positions?"

Pike chuckles, although the implied accusation hits a little too close to home, and pushes himself up from the table. "I prefer you sitting on the other side of the table and helping me work on my Romulan by engaging me in interesting discussions. I don't like to get bored. Three months, and see it as exchange. I help you with your 'fleet issues, you help me with my Romulan. You know where to find me — you've got one week to decide."

Pike leaves without looking back.

Asimov calls three days later, and Pike manages to sound very professional when they arrange their first meeting.

*

It's on the second Sunday after Dael's departure when Pike wakes up to the subdued light of the morning with his arm outstretched to the empty side of the bed, and suddenly reality settles like a shock.

This isn't going to be just a week or two alone. Dael is gone for three months — _everyone_ is gone. Whenever he comes home, his apartment is like a quiet shrine of everything he wants and never seems to gain, the rooms void of life. And no matter how many activities he tries to fill into his days, he's learned the difference between being busy and being happy, and he's far from the second right now.

There's a sudden spike of frustration, and he embraces it because it's at least _some_ emotion. He'd moved into the large apartment mostly because of Dael, had let her into his life and relationships, and what had he gained from it? Yet another square one situation, where he wonders if it's been a bad idea from the start to get emotionally invested in anyone when it seems to be his universal fate to live alone.

His throat tight from the sudden onslaught of depression, he rolls out of bed and walks into the kitchen to switch on the coffee maker, reveling in its humming sound. He puts a generous portion of butter on his breakfast bagel and then sits down with the steaming cup, determined to improve his moody start of the day by raising his blood sugar.

Outside, it starts to rain.

*

On Monday, Nogura cancels the monthly meeting of the department heads until further notice, which causes a little stir-up in the admiralty, but not as much as it should, in Pike's opinion. He has lunch in the admirals' lounge a few times, trying to gather the current mood of his colleagues but the table talks are superficial, nobody willing to make in-depth statements. The prevalent interpretation seems to be that Nogura and Shaa are working on a new general strategy for Starfleet, which is discussed in smaller, focused work groups — of which he's no part, obviously.

Pike goes back to having lunch in his own office.

*

"So, how's our resident spy?" Kirk jokes over their real-time connection a week later, and doesn't stop smiling even when McCoy slaps him on his head.

"She sent only one brief recording," Pike replies from his home office. "Obviously, she likes it so far — wherever she is." He'd been extremely relieved to see her relaxed features and hear her calm voice. There'd been nothing of the slightly psychotic vibe from her Advanced Flight II recording, and it had eased some of his concerns.

_It also makes him miss her like hell._

"It's so funny — we all got our own secrets. I've got my orders, Bones got his medical discretion, you've got your admiral's business, and she's going to get covert actions non-orders. That pretty much evens it out for all of us."

Pike's mind conjures pleasurable daydreams in which he throttles Kirk — just a little, not too much — because he still doesn't like the whole assignment. Contrary to Jim Kirk, who shares Dael's opinion that it's a great chance and interesting adventure. _Damn kids_.

"Jim!" McCoy admonishes his husband.

"Sorry," Kirk says but doesn't manage to sound as if he means it.

"You might not be aware of it, but John wrote reports on me for a long time, friendship or not," Pike says coolly. "I managed to get my hands on two, and while they didn't include anything of private nature, I was cautious around him for years."

"Oh." His audience turns quiet and thoughtful.

"So you wonder if one day, Dael would do that too?" McCoy asks.

"I hope not but you can imagine that I didn't like her decision a lot."

"You never stated it so plainly," Kirk says somewhat surprised.

"I did to her." There's a pregnant pause before Pike adds, "Let's talk about something else."

"I've got a better idea," McCoy says and winks. "You're at home and we've got fifteen minutes left, so what if Jim and I get down to some sexy business? You get to say what we should do, Chris."

And so he enjoys a lovely, very arousing scene, directing the doc to tie up Jim and go down on him while jacking off, and they all manage to come just within their tiny timeframe, which is quite a feat.

" _We kept going after you had to sign off_ ," the message arrives five hours later, and they attach a vid with the scene with him and the one afterward, how the two men switched places and Jim chained the doc to the bed, fisting him slowly and carefully until the doc was begging for mercy.

" _Think of Chris watching us, wanting to see you come so hard_ ," Jim mutters on the tape, at last his hand on the doc's cock, and the doc looks at the cam and comes all over his chest with a sharp cry.

The vid becomes Pike's favorite lullaby.

*

Arissa invites him to her birthday party, and he gives it a try for half an hour before feeling absolutely in the wrong place with the mostly lesbian guests, leaving with some excuse.

Farnham seems to be back in the business and is off and away. Pike spends an evening with Eric, but without John, there's just something missing, so they part and go home to their own, lonely beds.

His two-week class at the academy is canceled for organizational reasons, so in search of non-sexual distraction, Pike ups the number of receptions to three a week. He truly enjoys the many interesting discussions with diplomats of Federation worlds regarding the future developments of the confederation. But then rumors about a new, powerful technology being incorporated into 'fleet ships are spreading, and suddenly every lightly spoken word across a buffet or over a glass of whine becomes a careful dance, in which extremely crafty men and women try to gather information from him about Starfleet plans. It's quite an intellectual challenge.

Asimov and he meet three times a week at his office and Pike makes sure that the door to his assistant's anteroom is open and the cam is running, keeping away from Asimov as far as possible. He knows that by now many people have the opinion he'd jump any young sexy officer of any gender, and it's not a misunderstanding Pike is really able to clear up.

His progress with Romulan is as slow as he expected. Whenever he thinks about giving up, though, he remembers how Dael's face had lit up whenever Jim had addressed her in Romulan, and how he'd dumbly sat next to them, not understanding a word. Next time, he'd know what they were talking about.

 _Next time, he'd be the one speaking Romulan with Dael.  
_  
So with more motivation than ever he slogs through word lists, grammar and exercises like some bull-headed maniac but he still often frustrates his excellent teacher.

"I told you I'm bad at this," Pike says compassionately one day when the lieutenant's suffering is palpable.

"I thought you were joking," Asimov admits. "Isn't there a rule —?"

"That captains have to speak alien languages? No, and I guess it would decimate our ranks if there were," Pike says amused. "I'm especially bad but only a few are really good."

Asimov scratches his head, and then decides not to comment on this. "Let's get back to the irregular verbs," he says instead, and Pike sighs a little.

*

Sometimes he sits at his office table and stops whatever he is doing to play with the ring. It always makes him smile and think of the day they bought them, then of many other days he's spent with Dael.

He starts to write messages that are never going to be sent, but that she could read after her return, maybe, a diary of his time without her so that she wouldn't miss anything important.

*

With the apartment much too silent on Thursday night, he thinks about calling Eric when a surprise chat is established from the _Enterprise_.

It's McCoy, slouched on his bed; he's obviously fresh out of a shower with his hair still wet and his naked chest glittering from droplets of water, one hand out of sight, probably cupping his package. He looks good enough to eat, and Pike automatically licks his lips.

"You up for a game?" his lover asks over the comm.

"Maybe?" Pike replies, both interested and cautious.

"Go to your nightstand, bottom drawer. There's something I left behind."

Pike walks out and follows the directions, not really surprised about what he finds there.

"You want me to wear the collar?" Pike asks when he's back in front of the cam, the shining metal band with the key in front of them on the table. "I've never been a big fan of that kind of long-distance game."

"So if I told you to put it on, you'd say _no_?" McCoy asks, unruffled.

Pike squares his shoulders. "I didn't say that."

The doc sits up and gives him a thoughtful look. "You can stop anytime. You know that."

"And you know that once I join the game, I'm unlikely to say _no_ in the middle," Pike retorts.

"Yes. That's definitely part of the beauty."

Pike looks away from the screen. "Fuck you," he mutters.

"Next time." The doc smiles, a damn intense smile. "Put it on, Chris. Give me the wonderful illusion that I've got a say in anything you do for a few days."

Pike might've been able to resist the order but not the second sentence, longing and desire frosted with sadness and what-if's. His hand curls around the metal even as he shakes his head and wants to say that he's not ready for shit like this, that he'd always thought people participating in these kinds of games are stupid to succumb to the wishes of someone on the other end of a comm line.

But maybe it's not important that there's a line between them and thousands of light years; it's only important that it feels right and he's ready to make such a step.

His hands almost work on their own; only the click of the lock brings him back to the here and now.

"Damn, Chris…" McCoy rasps. "You fucking own me, do you know that?"

"Isn't that supposed to work the other way round?" Pike says, not quite trusting his voice.

"It always works both ways." McCoy leans forward, shifting the cam a little. He's completely naked, and as reckoned, one hand is cradling a strong erection. "Strip for me, Chris. Give me a show."

"If I had known what I was signing sign up for…" Pike complains playfully as he gets up and very slowly pulls his black tee over his head. He runs his hands over his chest, presenting his best sides to the cam.

"Yeah, touch your nipples, rub them for me..." Under McCoy's ongoing orders, Pike puts on the demanded show, at last jerking off for him.

When he's done, he's boneless on his chair, his hands full of come. On the screen, McCoy is back to the slouched position, eyes half-closed with similar white droplets covering his chest.

"I'll send you a list of rules," the doc says.

"Hmm-hmm." Pike makes a lazy sound, too exhausted to complain about being given the rules _after_ the start of the game.

What would be the fun if he knew them all beforehand?

*  
 _  
You're in a meeting?_ the doc writes.

 _Yes_ , Pike messages back. _Bored to death. Friday is my least favorite day._

They've got a delay of twenty-three minutes caused by the _Enterprise_ ' distance to Earth, but for the game, it works better than Pike would have expected.  
 _  
Anyone in the room you'd like to have sex with? I bet there is. Tell me about the person.  
_  
One rule of the game is that Pike has agreed to answer every damn question truthfully. He eyes the round and wishes he hadn't promised it because now he'd have to consider that he's kind of interested in one member of his task force, the one of which he absolutely has to keep his hands off.

 _Fine. You want me to vent my currently darkest secret, so here it is. I've got that spy in my team who's young and bright. I've never been with anyone of his species, but I had a few hot fantasies of meeting him in my club by chance, on one of his trips to the dark corners of the human soul, and that he'd beg me to teach him more about human sexuality.  
_  
Pike wishes this was an exaggeration, but he had engaged in certain daydreams over Thelin lately and this could only mean he badly needed to join John and Eric for a round of sex. He's a little annoyed with himself for obviously needing gay sex like breathing but _hell_ , it's all his men's fault.

 _You're underfucked,_ the doc writes back.

 _Guess why_ , Pike sends. _Miss your dick up my ass.  
_  
The answer takes a while, and the meeting is almost over when it comes in.

 _Scotty spilled orange juice all over me and then managed to get a glimpse on your last message while cleaning up. Don't think he saw who the sender was but it was close.  
_  
Pike shakes his head. _Thank you for protecting my reputation, that's  
_  
"Admiral, what's your opinion?" Esteban asks and Pike looks up, having not the faintest clue what's been said within the last few minutes.

"Apologies, gentlemen, my concentration is a little off," he says smoothly, inwardly annoyed that he needs to use his presumed disability as cover when his brain works more than well at the moment. "What was the question?"

"I think we should decide whether the new shield configurations can undergo an integration test in two weeks," Esteban says.

Thelin raises his hands. "I agree with the admiral that my concentration fails. I would suggest we shift the topic to our next meeting on Monday."

The round mostly agrees and the meeting ends. Esteban leaves with more than a little annoyance in his step, while Thelin is the last to remain with Pike. The Andorian stands, hands on an empty chair's back.

Pike leans back with a sigh, about to open the top buttons of his uniform before remembering the metal collar beneath which might be visible through the shirt. He yanks his hand away. "Lieutenant — while I appreciate your support, there is no need to make a fellow, higher-ranking officer look bad. I suggest you avoid such actions in the future."

"By Andorian standards, prolonging a meeting when the leader is obviously occupied otherwise makes an officer look bad."

Pike rubs his chin. "Interesting view point. Unfortunately, Captain Esteban didn't see it like that."

Thelin's antennae center on Pike. "He doesn't like you," the Andorian diagnoses calmly.

"He doesn't like my private life choices," Pike corrects him. "That has nothing to do with our professional understanding." _Or at least, it shouldn't.  
_  
Thelin's grip on the chair tightens. "By Andorian standards, this would be unacceptable," the young man says. "If it were my team, I would have removed him already." He nods sharply, then walks out.

Pike put his elbows on table, heavily resting his head in his hands. He should feel good about Thelin obviously being on his side, but he doesn't.

 _You just fucked up my team some more, damnit_ , he sends out. He's not surprised when McCoy isn't the least remorseful.

 _You manage that all by yourself, Admiral.  
_  
*

It's late on Saturday night, and Pike for once looks left and right before entering the _Joy Club_. It's one of the more sleazy gay bars, with a shady reputation - although he'd gotten to know its owner, Till Alicanta, over the meetings for the Rainbow Ball and the man had left a good impression with him. Pike still wouldn't choose this bar ordinarily, but it's the one with an old-fashioned glory hole, the easiest way to fulfill his assignment for tonight:

 _Get your dick sucked by someone anonymous, and think of me. And if anyone offers more, go for it.  
_  
Admittedly, he could've also just gone to another club with a dark room, but it's been a while since he'd done something that felt this _dirty_ , and he wants to enjoy this trip down memory lane. The glory hole room is rather dark and small, just space enough for two people per side, with the separated entries so far apart in the club that it's quite impossible to find out who the participants on the other side are.

Standing in front of that wall, his dick doesn't need much encouragement to rise to full glory. He takes out a condom, rolling it over its length, then leans forward and inserts his erection into one of the holes at an appropriate height.

The waiting that usually follows is the strangest thing; listening to footsteps drawing close, passing by or stopping; the slight sound of shoes scraping over the floor, clothes shifting or zippers being pulled… or just listening to white noise, which is the most common event.

Pike leans against the wall with one bent arm and keeps gently rubbing the base of his dick. His thoughts stray to the doc, and he imagines him standing behind him, ready to watch him getting sucked dry by a stranger. He's quite deep in fantasy land when a sound startles him, and he peeks over his shoulder to find another man coming in. It's so dark he barely sees a thing, but the man seems to look at him, checking out the situation. Pike turns his head back to the wall, looking down to his own dick in a gesture of _come in, I don't care_.

After a hesitant pause, the man draws closer, but his next moves are drowned in the sudden activity on the other side of Pike's hole, a hand capturing his latex-covered member in a tentative first stroke. The touch feels good, and Pike encouragingly cants his hips forward to poke more of his dick through the wall opening. Fingers close around his base, and seconds later, his member is embedded in the warm, slick heat of someone's mouth. It feels damn hot, and he enjoys the other one's work for a moment before thrusting in and out a little, testing the waters for a mouth fuck. As his glans hits the bottom of the man's mouth, Pike groans; the guy on the other side is definitely not new to deep-throating, and so he pushes forward again, riding the other one's face.

He startles as fingers brush over the strip of naked skin at the top of his lowered pants.

"Wanna get more?" the man that arrived a while ago whispers, rubbing along his crack in an unambiguous gesture. Pike isn't completely comfortable with the idea, and the man picks up on it, adding, "I'm playing safe. You can check." There's something brushing along his thigh, and Pike reaches down to feel a hard erection sheathed in a condom.

 _If anyone offers more, go for it.  
_  
"Okay," Pike rasps, voice low.

It's all the encouragement the man needs to pulls his pants further down, and Pike is torn between pushing deep into the hole and arching back against the fingers that search his anal entry now, slicking him up. It becomes quite a dance, and he's already half-gone from the stimulation when he's pinned against the wall from behind, pierced deeply by a rather large dick. Between the double impact of fucking and getting fucked, his mind full of real memories and wild fantasies of his men doing this to him, he's riding an incredible high until he feels the climax approaching, the pull in his balls, the coiling tension in his body right before orgasm… and then it breaks and it's as fantastic as the foreplay suggested, waves crushing through him as he spasms and shakes, uselessly searching for a hold on the wall but being held steadily from behind as his legs almost give in.

When he finds his breath again, the other man has already pulled out, and he feels strangely empty. But then the man takes his hand, directing it to the still hard dick, and Pike doesn't think twice before he gets down on his knees to suck him off, giving him a great ride for the short time the guy lasts, in the end rather sorry that the load lands in the condom's head and not deep in his throat. The man's hands on his head are strong but careful, caressingly brushing through his hair in the aftermath. They finally break apart, adjusting their clothes.

"Meet outside at the bar?" the man says quietly.

"Maybe," Pike says. The man nods and leaves.

When Pike walks out, rather cautious of being seen, he makes a much-needed detour to the restroom before peeking into the bar. It's rather empty, and he scans the handful of guests. The man had worn a long jacket with buttons, and there's only one person with that outfit, animatedly talking to a second man. Pike eyes their faces, which look somehow familiar. His suspicion is confirmed when they change position so that one of the small lights illuminates their features. They're both in Starfleet, even working a few floors beneath Pike's. For a second, Pike is still compelled to walk in and talk to them; but then he decides that he really doesn't need any further complications in his love life, and walks in the other direction. There's no visible second exit, so he knocks at the door with the label _private_. As hoped, the owner Till Alicanta opens.

"Good evening, Till," Pike says. "Don't want to interrupt you, but does your club have a back door where you could let me out?"

"Hello, Chris," the man says, instantly concerned. "Any trouble in the club?"

"No, just a great anonymous encounter which I want to keep that way."

"Ah, and the guy is waiting for you now," Alicanta says with an understanding grin.

"I didn't say no to the suggestion but it wouldn't fit at all."

Alicanta nods and shows him out of a hidden door. "At least it sounds like you had a great evening," he says with a twinkle.

"Yes, thanks. Might come back another day." Pike walks out into a small court that leads into the streets, the cool rain on his face a somehow fitting end of the scene.

There's a message on his PADD when he gets home, _Tell me everything_ , and he sits down to record a voice message.

*

On Sunday morning, Pike finds a new order by the doc on his PADD.

_Pick up your cam and film your day, with you as the star. Do the things you'd do anyway, but keep as naked as possible and have as many orgasms as you feel like._

P.S. The material will be for my eyes only.

He incredulously shakes his head, sending back:

 _I wanted to clean the apartment. You really want that on film?  
_  
As the reply would take a while, he moves out of bed to get his cam, setting it up next to his bed. After a brief setup to make sure the angle is correct, he lays down on the bed again, lazily stretching out on his back. "So you want to have me on film?" he asks, running his hands down his chest, then cupping his package. "Want to see me jerking off, while I think of you?" His morning boner, barely abated during the preparations, readily grows to full size again, and he captures it in one firm hand, stroking up and down.

Pike doesn't know where Jim is in all of this, and there's a tiny edge of concern that what they're doing here will have some future impact… but it's also hot as fuck. As long as he doesn't think about what a horny bottom he's being here, yearning for nothing more than a deep, hard ride by the doc...

He gives in to the need of a fuck by rolling over and picking a dildo out of his nightstand, one of the larger ones. Quickly slicking it up, he lies down on one side, his butt pointing towards the cam, one leg angled up, and reaches around his hip to insert the fat plaything into his ass. It takes him a few minutes, it's that thick, but he's sure the doc wouldn't mind watching this.

"See what I can take… thinking of you stretching me for a hard fuck. Getting wide enough to take the vibe and your dick… or maybe two dicks in the future, I bet you'd like that…"

Pike blathers along while working himself open with the dildo, his arm aching a little from the position. Once it's fully inserted, he rolls onto his back, locking the dildo into his ass with one heel.

"Fuck, it's big," he groans theatrically into the cam, then starts fisting his weakened erection, which is largely cock-blocked by the toy. "Bet you'd like to fill me up like this and then keep me on the edge. Turn me on and then let me beg for it. Make me your little cockslut, and damn, I am, see what you did to me…"

His dick being still rather soft, he comes soon anyway, thrashing into his hand as his body rocks on the bed. It's a strange orgasm; the images in his head had been rough, almost violent, but the climax is coming in long, almost sweet waves. The contrast does funny things with his head, leaving him feeling _fucking submissive_ and still needy. If the doc were here, he'd maybe do something stupid like begging for more, but that's not something he wants to give to a simple recording. Better keep it for their next real meeting.

Pike cleans himself up and then takes the cam, placing it strategically in the bathroom before taking a long, hot shower without a curtain, during which he cleans himself inside and outside.

"And now you can join me for breakfast," Pike says as he carries the cam into the kitchen, putting it on a counter before preparing a first coffee, as naked as the doc wants him with just the collar locked around his neck.

*

He spends most of the morning cleaning his apartment, and the idea of being the doc's obedient servant is surprisingly hot — hot enough to have him jerk off kneeling in front of the couch, reminiscing of the scene in which the doc had topped him so completely. Fuck, he's really getting into sub space.

It's almost midday when a call comes in, and Pike takes it without visuals.

"How about hanging out with us?" Farnham says. "We have enough food for three… and enough horniness too." Eric laughs in the background.

"Only if I can bring my cam and film it all," Pike says. "I've got a challenge running."

"Oh, a challenge," Farnham says teasingly. After a moment of conferring with his lover, he replies, "bring it on."

"Fine. See you in an hour." Pike shuts off the line and texts the doc.

 _I'm about to see John and Eric. Any limits on what I should or shouldn't do?  
_  
The reply comes as promptly as the time delay allows:

 _Nope. As long as it's on film.  
_  
Concerned about potential data loss, Pike stops the cam and saves the first hours to his console, sending a compressed version of it to the doc.

 _Hope it will to meet your tastes_ , he adds to it, then leaves to meet his friends.

*

"A challenge?" Farnham asks when they sit down to their lunch, fish with wild rice and mixed vegetables.

"The doc wants to see a day of my life," Pike says. "And I'm going to give it to him."

"Does he want to see anything special?" Eric asks.

"He dropped me some pointers, but nothing too specific. If unsure, I ask for details."

Eric grins. "Kinky. I wonder what he'd think now, having us all here."

"I could ask him," Pike says, and Farnham nods in agreement.

It's well after lunch, all of them lazily hanging on their chairs still digesting the dessert, that the reply comes. Pike reads it aloud:

 _How about you all tell me about your first times?  
_  
"Sounds like fun," Farnham says. It probably helps that they're more than a little inebriated at this point, so they move to the bedroom and onto Farnham's fantastic, octagonal bed, juggling whine glasses, snacks and the cam.

"You first," Farnham declares and points the cam at Pike. With a shrug, Pike leans back against some comfortable pillows, naked feet on the cushions — the only naked thing right now, as they're all still dressed up.

"That's the stable story, right?" Farnham says, and Pike smiles as he conjures the memories.

"Right. I was fourteen, and there was our neighbor's son, nicknamed _Bear_. Not the least because his actual name was Teddy, but he was also quite a bit taller and broader than I was. We didn't get along very well — in fact, we despised each other quite a bit. Some of it probably came down from our parents who didn't think very highly of each other, but most of it was simple personal aversion. Or so we thought until the day when he visited me in our horse stable and tried to chew me out for something I'd supposedly done… I don't remember what it was about, but we got into a fight, punching and kicking each other through the stable. He was stronger but I knew better how to use his strength against him, so all in all we were quite evenly matched. At last we ended in the corner where the horse manure was put in, as compost for our family garden. It was a damn mess but we didn't stop, still beating each other up until we both lay on the stinking heap, Bear's hands on my shirt and his body covering mine, clothes rugged up and dirty from the sticky straw, smears of horse shit on our faces… and suddenly his lips were on mine and it was just perfect." Pike sighs happily.

"We made out with our hands, kissing and biting all through it and coming quite fast, horny teenagers that we were. Afterward, it was damn awkward. He got up and couldn't quite look me in the eye, just stumbled off to go home with all the shit on his clothes. Heaven knows what his parents have said. Me, I earned five of the best that day, but if my father had known what we'd actually been doing... I'd have really been in trouble," Pike adds somberly.

"Five? You got beaten at home?" Farnham asks from behind the cam.

Pike frowns a little. "Not really a part of the story, is it? But what the hell… yes, it happened."

"So that's why you're not into pain in S&M games?"

Pike looks away from the cam as he ponders the question, trying to remember the answers he'd come up with decades ago when he'd asked himself the same. "First of all, I prefer to be on top, so it usually isn't part of the equation anyway. And then it's really so much connected to a person of authority that only very few people ever were in the position to get to that point."

"But McCoy is there, isn't he?"

Feeling his cheeks heating up, Pike looks back at the cam. "Sometimes. And fuck you for making me speak about this, John." He makes a rude gesture.

"I've always been curious about that aspect of yours." His old friend smirks unrepentantly.

"Give Chris a break," Eric mutters and reaches out to nudge Pike's hand. "What became of Bear?"

Slightly relaxing, Pike says, "He kept away from me after that, got a girlfriend a few weeks later. Seems he couldn't accept the idea of being into guys, while for me it was more of an epiphany. I had kissed a few girls but it had never felt right, and in my fantasies, it'd mostly been about boys. So in a way, I'm still thankful that he kissed me back then."

"Sweet story," Eric says and moves higher up to place a gentle kiss on his lips. Pike takes it as the encouragement and thank-you it feels like, kissing him back and hoping that the doc wouldn't mind having that on the film, despite having set no limit on his activities.

"How about you being next, Eric?" Farnham says and shifts the cam a little. "I already heard that hilarious story once, but I'd listen to it any time."

There's something strange in Eric's gaze before the younger man's eyes shift to the cam. "That story — that was made up," Eric says quietly. "My actual first time isn't something I'd want to tell just anyone. It wasn't… a fun story, you know."

A sudden sobriety falls over them all as the weight in Eric's words settles in, the implications that come with it.

Farnham slightly lowers the cam. "You don't have to speak about it," he says, unusual concern written on his face.

Eric looks at his partner with a brief smile. "Maybe I'd like to speak about it today. I don't mind if the two of you know." His eyes sweep up to Pike. "If you want to listen, that is."

"Go ahead," Pike says serenely. "If you want me to listen, I'll listen."

"Good." Eric sits up a little aside from both of them, curling his arms around slightly bent knees. "You can get the cam started again, John."

"Really?" Farnham asks unsure.

"Yeah, it makes it different. More distant, you know? Like in that one old movie, 'Sex, Lies and Videotapes. A guy who's filming women while they talk about sex and all their problems with it, until they find out that the guy's the one with the biggest problem of them all." Eric's voice has a nervous tremble in it.

"Sounds like an interesting movie." Farnham raises the cam again, focusing on Eric. "We could watch it together one day."

"Well, now that I gave away the bit of plot it has, I guess we don't have to," Eric says with an uneasy laugh. "Anyway, my first time. I was sixteen. Mom had to move for her new job, and my sis went with her, considering she'd just turned fourteen. I wanted to stay in the city… doesn't matter which one, but I wanted to stay and finish school. I was old enough, and reliable and all, and always so grown-up, you know. My mom wasn't too sure about the solution but at last I got a dorm room in an apartment house for students. She paid for most of my costs and for the rest I worked in the evenings. A week after they'd moved, I went to my first gay party." Eric sweeps his gaze over them.

"I'd known I was into men but I'd never had the guts to do much about it. I didn't want anyone to know just yet, especially not mom who'd always complained about her gay brother… though later I found out that was because he really was an asshole, not because of his sexual orientation. But that's how I read it, that she wouldn't love me anymore if I was like that, so I wanted to hide it from her. With a room of my own a thousand miles away, I had the freedom to check out all the things I'd only read about. I dressed up for the party with a tight black shirt and a ripped pair of jeans, trying everything in my might to look a little older because it was an 18+ party. They looked a little suspiciously at me, but hey, the club needed some fresh meat so they let me in."

Pike slightly shifts his position on the pillows as something uncomfortable unfolds in the depths of his gut.

"I had a drink or two at the bar and quickly had some guys around me. The most interesting ones were a couple, maybe twenty-five years old and looking damn manly to me, you know, all black leather and a scruffy look. Bought me another drink, felt me up until I was all hot and hard. They offered me to come with them to their place, spend the night with them. And young and stupid as I was, I agreed." Eric makes a minute pause, his shoulder muscles visible locking under the shirt.

"We drove for a long time, god knows where to. It was still all fun while we got rid of our clothes, had another drink, smoked something I didn't know but which made me just a little bit dizzy and even more excited, as if I needed that. I had my first orgasm during the drive and was already hard again. They teased me for it, slapped me in the face, not too hard, still all fun. Got me on the bed in their middle, made me blow them until they were both hard. They kissed and petted me, fingered my ass, promised me the fuck of my life. They rolled me on my stomach, one holding me down while the other knelt between my legs, teasingly rubbing his cock over my ass. And then the guy suddenly…. _fuck_ …" Eric's voice breaks, and like on command both Pike and Farnham move forward to take him protectively into their middle.

"Just let go," Pike whispers, and it's all the encouragement Eric needs to start crying, ragged and in obvious inner pain. Farnham places kisses all over his lover's forehead, muttering phrases of solace that would sound totally clichéd in any other moment, but what do you say when someone brings up such a story?

After a while, Eric recovers enough to speak again. "They kept going in turns all night, didn't care shit about me. Did things to me…" His listeners don't need the details to imagine the events, the way all of Eric's body is trembling. "I thought they'd kill me afterwards. They said they would. Nobody knew where I was, nobody would miss me for days. It was pure hell. I… _shit_."

"Shh, loverboy," Farnham mutters, cradling Eric as tears break again. "You're alive, you're here. The assholes didn't win. They didn't."

When he's got himself under control again, Eric nods red-eyed. "Yeah, they let me go at last. I don't even know why. Drove me back in the trunk of the car, kicked me out in some deserted corner of the city. I spent a week in hospital. Took me years before I could sleep with a man again."

Eric looks at them, tightening his hold on them both. "First night I came here, I knew John's full name and address and a friend of mine had all the data. I was still nervous when a second guy showed up, but that touch… it may sound strange, but the way you touch someone, Chris, it's firm and self-assured but still gentle and, I don't know, unassuming? Never threatening, even if you do some kinky shit. I always feel safe with you, both of you, no matter what you do."

"Thanks for the compliment," Pike says, his voice rough around the edges. The idea that Eric could be dead if things had gone wrong is damn painful, and thinking that such bastards might still be running freely today makes him grit his teeth. "I'm damn glad you're still with us."

"God, yes," Farnham agrees. "Loverboy, fuck, you could've told me earlier…" he mutters between kisses, hands scooped around Eric's face.

"Never really told anyone," Eric says chortled, eyes moist. There's still a subdued tremble running through the young man, and they need quite some time to ease it out of him. They make love to him, all of them needing it to reassure themselves that what they have is something good, and that listening to his story doesn't change a thing between them.

Which is a lie, of course — they're softer with Eric now, a quiet concern in everything they do, and Pike can only hope that they'll manage to get over it in the future because on any other day, Eric wouldn't want them to be quite that nice. But today it's what they all need, and once Eric's falling asleep in satiated exhaustion, Pike gets ready to leave them. Farnham quietly walks out of the bedroom with him, the shut-off cam in his hands.

"Gather you'll delete that part?" Farnham asks.

Pike nods. "The doc will understand."

"Bet he will." Farnham sighs. "I'd never thought to hear such a story from Eric. If I'd ever meet those guys, I'd guarantee nothing."

"Same here."

"Sure you don't want to stay?" Farnham puts one warm hand on his shoulder. "You would be more than welcome, you know."

"I know. Thanks for the offer, but…"

"…you belong somewhere else." It could sound ironic or teasing, but it does neither, as Farnham's knowing gaze rests on the collar.

"Yes," Pike agrees. "Take care, John, of Eric and yourself." A last kiss on the way, then Pike leaves them.

*

He doesn't quite know where to go to but it's only late afternoon and he's far from fulfilling Leonard's order about being naked and getting off as much as he could. After some consideration he drives to a strip of the beach that has a reputation for being a nudist corner and a gay meeting point. It's relatively empty as the sky is a little clouded and rain has been predicted. He takes a corner spot and strips there, hiding the cam among his clothes.

The problem with stories like Eric's is their impact, Pike thinks. That he's sitting here now actively thinking about his safety, that he'd chosen a place in the main area instead of somewhere in the woods which would've been his original preference. That if he'd known that story before last night, he might not have had hot sex in the glory hole room but might have stopped the scene out of concern about being in a position of getting easily overpowered. There had been a few moments in his sex life with close calls, but all had dissolved quite quickly. Like most men he liked to think he could defend himself in such situations, but just a fist to the right spot could bring a man down, and once you're on the ground, you rarely get up again. A lesson Pike had learned on too many away missions.

The memory of Eric, curled around his legs much like Dael when she's in distress, also brings his mind to her. While he'd said to the doc that he's quite sure she didn't have such a story in her past, it's only by deduction — he'd never asked her, because he fears the answer. He doesn't know how he would handle it if she brought a similarly horrible story, how it would change his behavior around her, their sex life. He feels ashamed for rather leaving things like that in the dark than facing reality, although he knows it's her decision too. His principle of never asking is a fine method to get along with her, but Jim is right, sometimes he needs to ask, needs to offer, because she wouldn't bring up a subject without that. He's just not sure when to do that.

He's seated just as curled right now, looking at the few people that hang around in the far distance. Sitting here musing doesn't get him any closer to delivering the doc's wish-fulfillment vid, so at last he lies down and switches on the cam, determined to think about nicer things.

"Hey doc," he softly states into the lens as the recording starts, although nobody's around to hear him, the wind in the trees covering any small human sounds around. "I'm sorry that the afternoon wasn't as I thought it would be. But I intend to make it up to you. I thought I’d tell you a little about the fantasies I sometimes have, just of you and me. I hope you keep your promise that nobody else will see this vid, because I don't think they'd like it."

Pike arranges his body a little more comfortable, one arm folded under his head as make-shift pillow, his other on his hip, fingers lightly resting on his groin.

"I'd like to have a vacation just with you. Nobody else around, nobody to consider. You and I near some lake in the mountains, where we could do anything. Sleeping, swimming, cooking, talking, hiking, having sex. Making _love_. I want to spend time with you in a way we never could. And if… hell, if you wanted to put the collar on me, it would be okay for me." Pike groans a little; it's not exactly what he'd had in mind when recording, but his subconscious seems to get the better of him.

"This morning was hot. The idea of doing things on your orders was hot. The idea that you want me so much that you'd collar me... it's an interesting head space. One I haven't been in for decades, not since academy times. I told you the story once about the unnamed lieutenant with which I had a secret affair back then. He was the only one who ever played with such things, and the only one I ever gave the right to do that. An approving father figure for once, and he could've gone a lot farther than he ever did. Guess I should be grateful that he didn't." Pike pauses, not sure where his rambling thoughts are carrying him. The doc knows some of the story but didn't like it, so it's probably been stupid to bring it up now. But it's a part of his past, and wearing the collar ties in to it.

"You're not some father figure, Leonard. Not at all. But you're someone who gets under my skin in a way I wouldn't have thought possible, for better or for worse. Sometimes I don't know how to get along without you. Sometimes it just fucking hurts to know we won't see each other for months or years, when all I want to do is curl up with you in the night and wake up with you in the morning."

Pike squeezes his eyes shut. This is getting bad; these things he says, they're not ready for public consumption, not even between the two of them. He should delete them but he knows he wouldn't, not from this recording.

"It's strange, this feeling. More than just love. I start to lose grip on what that word means, since I put my toes into the waters of polyamory. I'm not sure I'm made for that but it's a bit like a Pandora's box, I wouldn't be able to close the lid again either. It's one big fluid scale but in the end, it's you who makes me weak in the knees like nobody else does, who makes me do things nobody else could."

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck.  
_  
"Who makes me agree to a collar. Last time you did that, when you fucked me, I came just from your cock. Not sure you realized it, but it's not something I usually do. I came just from you fucking me, and it wasn't even enough, I wanted you to keep going. I couldn't say it but that's what I wanted. I said I was yours and I meant it, but it's not something I should ever have said, you know? Just another Pandora's box, a box in a box and you keep opening the lids and then leave me hanging there with new knowledge. All the things I never wanted to face and then you go away again. It's not fair, Leonard. Not fair."

Pike bites his bottom lip; this is the worst thing he's ever recorded and if he were in his right mind, he'd push the stop button and sink the cam into the sea. But he isn't, and so he keeps talking, "It's not fair that you all leave me, everyone who means a damn thing to me, you leave me alone here on Earth and that's how it feels, Leonard, that's how I really feel, and having John and Eric here is good but they are not you. They're not what I really need, and sometimes I don't know how to live with that. For the longest time, my work was what made me going but that changed, things are moving in the admiralty and I'm not sure I'll keep my position in the future. I'm grounded and the ground is shifting, at all points in my life, and I hang on to the relationship with you and Jim and Dael, although it sometimes feels so unreal, or just so painful. She'll be gone soon, I just know it, and you'll be away for many more years, because Jim needs you and you need him, more than you need me."

Pike inhales, trying to find his breath through his constricted throat. Too much, he says much too much.

"And that's as it should be. I love you both so much, Leonard, I don't want you to separate, ever, not over me nor over anybody else. You belong together, and I've been the intruder — all right, maybe the welcome guest but still, an addition, not the core. You're out there and your life will depend on how well your relationship keeps working, and I want to see you come back alive, no matter if we're still together in the future."

He smirks sadly. "I can almost hear you say now, _stop being so morose_ — or as Jim would say, _stop overthinking, Admiral_. I didn't want to say most of the things I said here, but you've got a way of challenging me to tell the truth, Leonard. And it's worse when I feel obliged to tell it. Like here with your collar around my neck which I take as a demand on my person, to be myself and not to hide. So you got a bucket full of things I shouldn't have said, and I wouldn't mind if you never speak about them again, or delete the recording. But that's up to you. I'm going to go home now and send it to you. I'm sorry the day wasn't half as sexy as it should have been. I promise I'll make it up to you in the future."

Determined, Pike stops the recording, gets dressed and walks to the car, riding home with a heavy heart.

*

His subconscious wish that the recording might have failed is not granted; the quality is good, everything he'd said is audible and understandable. At least the words — he's not too sure about the emotions. He leaves it all as it is, though, only cutting out Eric's part with a brief explanation, and then sends it out into the void.

He's not surprised when a call from the _Enterprise_ comes in an hour later.

"Got your recording," McCoy says with a serious expression on his face. "How's John's boyfriend?"

"As fine as anyone will be, after talking about such a traumatic experience. We kind of fixed him up, and I'm glad that he's staying with John."

"Shit." McCoy sighs. "So I guess you weren't in the mood for some more fun, were you?"

"Hmm, not really," Pike says, gathering that the doc didn't yet listen to the recording. "But you can always try." He smiles at the cam. They've got so precious little time with each other, they'd be stupid not to make the best of it.

"Can I?" McCoy says, his mood lifting. "Like, ask you why you're wearing so many clothes?"

"Must have forgotten the rule of the day," Pike replies. "So you want me to undress again?" He opens the first four buttons on his shirt.

"Oh yes. Just hurry on a bit, I'm not sure how long we've got this connection."

Pike gets up and strips quickly, still taking the time to show off to his best advantage.

"If I were there, I'd bend you over the table and screw your brain out," McCoy grunts on the other end, one hand suspiciously vanishing beneath the screen bottom. "And seeing the collar on you is just… fuck. Sit down and get your feet on the desk, spread your legs wide… yeah." There's the noise of a hastily undone fly, before McCoy settles back in his own chair.

"Put your left arm behind your neck," McCoy orders, and Pike obliges. "Imagine I'd tie you up, only leave your right hand free so that you can jack off for me. Yeah, come on, touch yourself." Pike cradles his bulge, extremely aware of how much on display he is in this position on his chair. "Lick your fingers," McCoy says after a moment. "Get your fingers into your ass, fuck yourself a little. Oh yes…"

It's far from the real thing Pike would want, from the doc's cock deep inside of him and the doc's body pushing him into the chair with every move, heavy, claiming him, but it's still a beautiful fantasy ride through which he's directed, fisting and fucking himself and pinching his nipples and cradling his balls, until he comes on McCoy's order.

Slowly returning to reality, Pike finds himself slack in the chair, sticky wetness on his groin. He wipes his hand on his legs and uncurls the arm from behind his neck, groaning a little when his shoulder aches.

"You're wonderful," McCoy says, still catching his own breath. "Just wonderful. Love you so much."

"Love you too," Pike says, a little hazy and wrung out from the day, a feeling of emotional loss suddenly settling in his chest.

"Seeing that collar does things to me… if Dael were around, I might let her take over, give the key to her —"

"No," Pike snaps, instantly torn out of his cozy bliss. "Not her. This is between me and you."

"Fine, no problem," McCoy says. "I just thought maybe she'd like it. From what Jim said —"

"I don't care what they do with each other but Dael and I don't play such games. And even if we did, it wouldn't be yours to start!" It comes across a lot sharper than Pike intended but _fuck_ , this idea is trangressive since McCoy doesn't fucking _own_ him, even if he likes to entertain the idea once in a while.

McCoy's lips tighten. "I get it."

"Hope you did." Pike consciously uncurls the fist his hand has formed without him noticing.

"I'm sorry."

"Accepted."

They face each other in quiet, subdued irritation.

"Shit, that's not how I wanted it to end," Pike murmurs at last.

McCoy suddenly directs that typical analytical gaze at him. "It's always the end that's a problem, isn't it?"

Pike's first impulse is to deny but then he gives it a thought and yeah, it's all surprisingly easy as long as he's in the flow, but the ending… "You're right."

"Any idea why?"

"You are the psychologist, doctor," Pike mutters, then rubs his face with his hands.

"Come on, look at me," McCoy says.

Pike looks up. "That's an order?"

"No," McCoy says sharply. "Get that damn collar off and let's talk, Chris, really talk. It's getting a bit old that you agree to something and feel good with it while it lasts but then you pull us both down in the end."

"Fine." Pike opens the lock and roughly puts the collar down. Squaring his jaw, he looks back at the screen.

"What's the matter? You've got a problem with your self-image afterwards?" McCoy asks. "Can't have the mighty admiral be a little obedient?"

"For the record, _a little obedient_ isn't the problem here," Pike states sharply, and reaches for his t-shirt to dress up. "You're making me feel _fucking hell submissive_ , all right? It's like you got a key to my deepest secrets in that game and you open doors you shouldn't and then…" He falls silent.

"And then you can't deal with that," McCoy says flatly.

"Can you?" Pike states back. "Can you really?" He brushes his knuckles over his lips. "You didn't listen to the latest recording yet. Maybe you should, and then you tell me if you can deal with it any better than I can."

McCoy briefly closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. When he opens them again, he says, "I wouldn't try this with you if I didn't trust you to be able to handle it."

"You would," Pike says, suddenly feeling tired. "Because you want me in a way nobody else can have me, and this is what we get from it."

"That's what you think of me, that I'd risk your well-being for my own needs?" McCoy asks, his face unusually stony.

"Sometimes." Pike shakes his head, irritated about himself. "Fuck. Yes, you push me a little more than it's good at times. I play along because it's a challenge and I've got a hard time to say _no_ to it. But I still… sometimes, when I'm in it, I've got to face things I feel uncomfortable with, not the least because I think _you_ would feel uncomfortable with them too. Maybe that doesn't make a lot of sense right now, but please, listen to the recording, and then tell me if you can handle it. I need to hear that, Leonard. I need to know you can deal with what happens when you unlock those parts of me that I don't let out usually."

"All right," McCoy says. "I'll listen."

"You can have all of me," Pike says. "Just… just be sure what you do."

"Yes." McCoy's eyes sweep away from the cam for a moment, then settle back, serious and a little sad. "Need to sign off. We'll talk soon again."

"We will." Pike reaches out to the lens, wishing he could bridge the gap, knowing it's not that easy. "I love you, Leonard."

"I love you too, Chris." McCoy smiles crookedly. "Too much, probably."

Pike nods. "Probably."

The screen turns black without another warning, and it leaves Pike in a state of limbo he's unprepared for, the evening spent in brooding and a few glasses too many, setting off his med app alert like nothing else in the last weeks.

A day later, the _Enterprise_ goes into sudden radio silence with only a brief note from Kirk to his official console, leaving Pike bereft of all contact to his loved ones for god knows how long.

*

He goes through the motions of working, keeping himself busy with his task force, but his heart isn't in it. The progress drags on, and two tests fail spectacularly for no other reason than the simple fact that they use technology at the edge of their ability to control, much like the first nuclear power plants in Earth. Asimov has a week off and has gone to visit some relatives, and Nogura is on his way to Andoria for a ceremony.

His friends and part-time lovers have taken off for a spontaneous road trip of at least two weeks, and Pike is glad to hear that Eric's story has drawn them even closer together.

No matter what Pike tries, he can't stop feeling hollow.

*

Pike has never been a beach type, but on this sunny Saturday afternoon, he goes to the place he'd been with his lovers. Even though he'd managed to get his mood under control over the course of the week, he's aware how he's started to count the days until Dael's return, because that's relatively fixed, compared to the unknown time table for the _Enterprise_.

After his second long sick leave, Pike had left the mission board for good, but Barnett had usually kept him informed about the plans for the _Enterprise_. Shaa doesn't, and after one inquiry that she didn't answer, he's too proud to ask again. Their interaction is mostly professional but in no way friendly, and while Pike likes Thelin, who's intelligent, eager and curious, he still can't shake off the feeling that the young man had been selected not only to spy on the task force but also to lure him into an affair that Shaa could use against him later.

Pushing his misgivings out of his mind he decides to enjoy the afternoon, walking through the masses that populate the beach. He treats himself to an ice cream cone, mint and vanilla, and just steers from a wooden-planked walk down toward the beach as someone crashes into him from the side and he's pushed against someone, his ice cream a white smear on the other's blue shirt.

"Sorry, I didn't —" Words die on Pike's lips as the other man turns his head and their eyes meet. He hadn't seen Alain for years, only from a distance once, but there's no mistaking him. Still the same brilliant green eyes framed by a tanned, bright face, and if the blond curls are shorter and the wrinkles a little deeper, well, they both turned older.

"Hello, Alain," he says.

"Chris." Alain's expression goes through a kaleidoscope of emotions before settling into a hesitant smile.

"Spoiled your shirt," Pike forces out of his rather tight throat. He tries not to stare on the broad chest that's charmingly displayed by the tight fabric. _Still damn good-looking_ , he thinks.

"Still using the same old method to hit on a guy?" Alain says, his smile suddenly deepening.

"Did that the last time too, didn't I?" Pike shakes his head about himself — how could he forget that?

"Just that it was a drink in a club. Your club."

"Hope the ice cream stains are just as easily cleaned." Back then, they'd ended in Pike's apartment, the men in bed and their clothes in the washer, though Pike definitely doesn't intend to repeat that too. A little chat, however…

"How are you doing?" Pike asks.

"Is that just polite conversation or an actual inquiry about my situation?" Alain asks back. "'Cause if you really want to know, how about taking a walk together?"

"Fine by me," Pike says. It's not as if he's got anything better to do.

There's an almost eerie feeling of connection when they walk along the water side by side.

"We're separating, Carmen and I," Alain says.

"She was the one -?" Pike asks, because he's never heard her name before.

"Yeah, right."

"Separating," Pike repeats. "I'm sorry to hear that. Can't be easy on you and your kids."

Alain looks at him. "You kept tabs on me?"

"No, I didn't, but someone else did."

"Probably John," Alain says and laughs a little when Pike lifts his brows. "He never liked me. Jealous bastard. He's still your friend?"

"Yes, with up and downs on the road." Pike licks melted ice cream from the edge of the cone. "Why separation?"

"Just didn't work out," Alain says a little evasively, and Pike doesn't probe. Considering their history, he should maybe feel a little smug that the relationship he'd been dumped for didn't work in the long run, but he mostly feels for what must be a shitty situation, especially as children are involved.

"Been staying with a friend for a while but now looking for a place of my own. You don't happen to know somebody who's renting out a small, furnished apartment?"

"As a matter of fact," Pike says slowly, seeing a miraculous solution to his lingering problem appearing, "I do."

"Oh?" Alain looks at him, sudden understanding flashing in his eyes. "Don't say you've moved out of your shoebox at last!"

Pike smirks. "I did, just a few months ago. Thought about renting it out but felt uncomfortable doing so, so it's been empty for a while."

"And you'd rent it to me?" Alain shakes his head. "Chris, that's a pretty interesting offer but think about it for a day or two. I mean — we haven't even been on speaking terms for years."

"Most of the furniture is still there — you'd probably feel like in old times," Pike says. "Though maybe you'd hate that."

"Not sure. Maybe. Maybe not." Alain gives him a glance. "It was a pretty good time, most of the time."

Pike probably would've disputed that two years ago, when the brutal breakup had still been his most prominent memory of them, but by now he'd moved on and is able to see more facets.

"So — how are you doing?" Alain asks, sparing him a reply.

"I'm doing fine," Pike says, not sure how to bring on the complex news of his life.

Alain quirks a brow. "Does the _fine_ have something to do with the ring you're wearing?"

Pike lifts his right hand, glancing at his ring finger. "Didn't know it's so obvious."

"Never saw you wear anything but your academy ring, so it's pretty unusual. Who's the lucky guy?"

Pike shakes his head. "Actually, it's a girl."

"No!" Alain's jaw drops.

"Yes. Though she's only one part of the cloverleaf. There are two more people, a male couple."

"You're in a foursome? Whoa. I thought you'd never —"

Pike frowns. "Never what?"

Alain halts his steps. "Well — it's always been about Starfleet, you know. Space, your past ships, your future ship… you never seemed to want get really involved with anyone, so I'm surprised that you've met not one but three people."

"I wanted to be with you," Pike says flatly. "Guess I didn't manage to bring it across very well, considering how you left me."

"You never really indicated that before that evening, and by then I'd already given up." Alain briefly stares down onto the sand before looking up with a crooked smile. "Guess our timing was really bad, huh?"

"Yes."

They stand in silence for a moment.

"Well, I should go," Alain says stiffly.

"I meant what I said about my apartment offer," Pike states.

"I don't think it's a good idea. And I don't think your lovers would like that."

"It's my apartment," Pike points out. "Besides, they're all out in space right now."

"Really, Chris…" Alain shakes his head.

"You still have my comm id? Leave me a message if you want it."

"Okay." Alain purses his lips. "It was good seeing you. Take care."

"Take care, too."

They don't shake hands, just nod at each other before they part ways.

For a day, Pike keeps thinking about the meeting; then it vanishes into the back of his head.

*

 _Lieutenant Ariel, Starfleet Academy, to Admiral Christopher Pike  
_  
 _Dear Sir, we regret to inform you —  
_  
Pike abruptly stops reading, pressing his flat palm against the screen to cover the following text.

 _This can't be. Not this message. Not like this.  
_  
He's shell-shocked, unable to breathe as his heart starts hammering in his chest.

 _At least someone could've come over and talked to him in person.  
_  
He drops his head, curling over the keyboard. Every last emotion is wiped out, his mind blank and empty, and for a while, he's unable to do anything but stay in that fetal position. Then he raises his head again. Whatever happened, he needs to read the message at least once to learn about the details. Before going home and drowning himself to the point of hopefully permanent oblivion.

 _"Dear Sir, we regret to inform you that Cadet Dael's mission has been extended for another month. No reason has been given, but we were assured that she fully meets the requirements of her assignment and that her performance surpasses the expectations of her superiors. We will keep you informed of the development."  
_  
Pike inhales deeply, then shakes his head in disbelief. What fucking idiot starts a message like this with that doomed line? He writes a sharply-worded reply to Lt. Ariel with a cc to the man's boss and sends it off immediately.

Then he wants to get up to walk to his small bathroom but finds his legs shaking and unstable. He sinks back into his chair, burying his face in his hands. He'd always firmly told himself that he wouldn't even consider Dael's death, but this event shows him that his subconscious is way ahead of his brain here. She might get killed; she might get hurt. If she's indeed in Romulan space and would be found out as a Federation agent, she'd first get tortured for information and then executed.

And if anyone found out that he's her partner, it only would make things worse for her. He really shouldn't have put her name into that 'fleet form, but he'd been egoistic and needy.

It takes a few more minutes of wallowing in terrible images before he's able to consider the actual message contents. Her mission seems to have gotten extended because it runs so well. He hopes that this is really a good thing for her, that she's having an interesting time and will learn more about her personal strengths. He wants her to come back in the full glory of her first successful assignment, satisfied and more self-assured.

He tries very hard to forget that it means four additional weeks of loneliness for himself.

*

He only wants to clean her room, he tells himself when he walks into it that evening. Without the projected cornfields, it's rather bleak; she still doesn't want to hang up her art, although he'd told her repeatedly that he'd love to have some of her paintings in their apartment.

The pile has grown, and he goes through it from top to bottom. Most of the pieces he'd already seen, one way or the other, and she likes repetitive motifs that only change in details and color choices. There are paintings only, though, and she has to have her drawings somewhere else.

Never before had he gone through her drawers; they're surprisingly empty, even more so than his and he'd always been proud of not hording too much stuff. He finds her equipment and clean drawing paper, but nothing else. His search turns a little frantic, driven by a strange need to know, as if he'd be missing something if he couldn't find those pieces of her that she doesn't want to show.

At last he looks beneath her bed, the last corners of storage room, and there, finally, are her drawings. He looks through them. Aside of random sketches of sceneries and people he doesn't know, there are quite a few character studies of Jim on which he looks unusually young and vulnerable, and one of the doc and him asleep, a rough sketch that leaves the details to imagination. On the bottom of the pile, there's a pack that looks different, covered in a piece of fabric and bundled with a rope.

His breathing accelerating, he opens the package with slightly shaking fingers. In it are five small crayon drawings. Two are landscape studies, featuring the inescapable corn fields, but the other three show a teenage girl — Dael, before the tattoos. It's clearly not her own style, very different strokes that make her more angular, the few background decorations showing plants he'd never seen. Two are portraits, her thoughtful gaze resting on the beholder; one is a full body drawing, her sitting on a stairway in shirt and shorts. On all of them, she smiles.

He draws his forefinger over one of the portraits, wondering whether she finds in Romulan space now what she doesn't seem to find on Earth, or if she's hunting ghosts.

There's a small bundle at the bottom, and he unwraps it too. There, at last, are photographs. Not many, only a dozen, and she's only in three of them. It seems to be all she could rescue.

The first is a shot of a typical American family: father, mother, three small children, seated on a variety of bags and all smiling into the lens. On the second, Dael must have been about twelve, standing next to a man who might have been her father. They both smile, waving with their brushes in front of a large canvas.

The third can't have been long taken before the ambush; she's sitting on a bench next to a teenage boy — a _Romulan_ teenage boy, he realizes belatedly. Their shoulders are touching, and they look relaxed and like good friends. Or maybe more, considering what's written on its back, " _T.A and I_ " with a small heart underneath.

So maybe Asimov is right and she's got a Romulan fetish, developed over her years in the colony and the potentially intimate friendship with a Romulan boy. A boy who most likely had been killed back then.

Suddenly Pike sobers as if recovering from a strange trip, and he finds himself sitting in the remains of Dael's past, sad little insights into a time when her world had been full of happiness. He feels guilty, knowing that he'd brutally ripped something out of the dark without waiting for her permission. He'd betrayed her trust and wouldn't be able to give a good explanation aside of the untamable need to get in touch with her, _somehow_. There's so little of her in the apartment, so few things that really have to do with her, and he misses her so badly that when he starts thinking of it, he's drowning in misery.

He carefully packs the bundles again, but first photographs their contents — yet another strange action, but who knows if he'll ever get a chance to look at these pictures and drawings again — then stows it all back under her bed.

*

He's still sitting in her room when a call comes in. For a beautiful moment, he hopes it's the _Enterprise_ , but then it's only Farnham.

"Get dressed, we're going out," his friend says.

"I'm really not up for partying tonight," Pike replies.

Farnham shrugs. "Guessed as much as the news of Dael's further absence was related to me. So come on, it's not a good evening to stay home alone."

Pike resists for a little longer, but then Farnham wins, picking him up half an hour later.

"Where are we going?" he asks as Farnham drives northwards.

"Just wait and see."

The journey ends an hour later in front of a slim house in one of the industrial corners of the city. Farnham rings and when a lush Orion opens the door, Pike finally has a clue what Farnham had intended as evening distraction. By then he's already been dragged through the door and has to watch Farnham getting tackled by two curved Orions.

"Hello sweeties," Farnham croons as he pats their well-equipped asses. Pike closes his eyes and shakes his head. Seeing his old friend with women is definitely surreal. At least the situation is ridiculous enough to make him feel more amused than annoyed, which is definitely a change from the depressive mood he'd nurtured all day. However, once he can capture Farnham's arm for a minute, he pulls him aside.

"I told you I'm not interested in your Orions," he whispers.

"I know, I know. But there's someone I'd like you to meet," Farnham says and waves towards the stairways. "Here she comes."

Pike turns around and his refusal dies on his lips as he sees an ethereal being gliding down the steps. It's a young… woman, Pike guesses, about as thin and tall as Dael, and bald. Her only clothes are a short tunic of a half-transparent material, her skin underneath an immaculate white that makes her look quite unreal.

"Ash — Chris. Chris — Ash," Farnham says with a grin and a light slap on Pike's shoulder.

"You're Deltan?" Pike asks a little stupidly.

"Half-Deltan," Ash says, and her voice is wonderfully melodic. "And I don't believe in oaths of celibacy." She captures his hand and pulls it to her lips for a kiss, holding it there with more strength than he would have expected, considering her frail looks.

"Ash, I…" Pike flounders, trying to find the right words to deliver a polite _no_ , but when she smiles at him with her pale lips and large, dark, eyes, his hands start sweating and his heartbeat speeds up.

"John already told me that you're not one of those men…" she says, and it sounds surprisingly sweet, considering that it's such a cheap cliché. "That you would never visit here if not for him forcing you through the door."

"Well, I wasn't exactly forced, but close enough," Pike says, staring at her transfixed. He's sure that he wouldn't have even considered having sex with anyone like her before Dael, and he would've been adamant that Dael is the exception, not the rule. However, he might have developed a certain fetish, he considers, as Ash runs one hand up his arm and he all but leans into the touch of her slim fingers.

"How old are you?" he asks roughly, trying to keep a hold on his hormones. Seeing her more closely, she can't be any older than Dael, if at all. And Dael, if he went by her birth date like the world around them, is already way too young for him.

"Old enough to work here," she says, the flicker of a smile on her pale lips. "You want to see my license?"

"Yes," Pike says, realizing that this is the way to doom… or at least, the way to her room because she tugs his hand and says, "It's upstairs. Why don't you come with me?"

When he turns around to look for Farnham, the hall is empty but for Ash and him.

"He's engaged," she says. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to. You can just have tea with me, if you feel like." She tugs again and he follows half a step behind her, inwardly shaking his head, but too mesmerized by the young woman.

*

Her room is kept in light blue, with only a few white curtains taking the edges of the room's corners. Her bed is low on the floor, with some cushions and pillows in egg shell pastel. The only thing in abundance here are candles.

"A strange name, Ash," Pike says as he checks her license which is made out in the same name.

"I was inspired by the saga about a bird called Phoenix," Ash says as she takes her license from him and stows it away again.

"It's never really about his ashes, only about his rebirth," Pike says curiously, but she doesn't seem inclined to explain her choice.

"I'll prepare the tea." She glides off into a tiny kitchen corner without asking for his preferences, leaving him to meander through the room for another moment. There isn't a book or PADD to see; the room is bare of any real personal items.

"You're living here?" he asks when she gives him a cup of tea. It's not his usual beverage but it fits the atmosphere.

"Yes, this is my home," she says.

"It's so — naked."

"Everything we own is just an illusion," she says and lets her tunic slip down her stick-thin body, stepping out of it in the nude. "Only this is real." With one hand, she reaches up to his face and cradles his chin, and a wave of empathic concern floods his blood stream, hitting him like a hot desert wind. He takes a surprised breath, his knees going weak in a way that has nothing to do with his brain.

"Only we are real, here, now, together." He doesn't resist when she pulls him into a kiss, her lips surprisingly cool, her tongue flickering into his mouth as he opens to her and melts away.

Soon he's out of clothes and curled around her on her comfy bed, reveling in the growing peace of mind that she brings just by touching him. Maybe the stories about Deltans absorbing pain with their empathy are true after all.

"Why do you work here?" he asks nevertheless, slightly spoiling the moment. He'd seen her license and rationally knows that this is her choice, which is fine by him, but he can't help wondering if she couldn't make something more sensible with her life.

She strokes his hand that rests on her flat stomach without answering.

"Please. I'd love to know."

"Why, do you want to rescue me?" she says softly.

"Do you want to get rescued?"

"Not like humans think," she says and gets out of bed. She exchanges some burned-down candles with new ones before turning back to him. "On Delta, I'm the object of pity; on Earth, I'm the object of envy. I prefer the latter."

Pike is struck from her words and their implications. Yet another girl living between cultures, and just as torn, obviously.

"I also think that this world has not enough compassion," Ash adds more softly as she kneels down on the bed next to him. "So much pain in you all… I can see why some think you are less… evolved." She takes the edge off her statement by leaning forward and kissing along his throat and down to his chest, gently tonguing his nipples. When he closes his eyes, he could almost pretend that this is Dael, but thinking of her brings back the news about her delay, and with it another bout of helpless frustration.

"Shhh." Ash puts two fingers on his chin. "Look at me." It's strange to see her face, so similar in its anorexic youth and yet so different because her skin is white like china, flawless. He reaches up and palms her cheek, drawing one thumb over her bottom lip.

"Tell me about her," she says.

He sighs. "I'd rather not. It wouldn't change a thing anyway." His mind might still be a little unwilling but his cock isn't, and he's ready to follow its lead if it means getting rid of his thoughts for a while. She catches on his mood and curls her hand around his hard-on with a few firm strokes before going down on him.

When he closes his eyes this time, he thinks of nothing but the arousing touch of a pair of lips.

*

He dreams about something sweet and hot that he doesn't remember the second he opens his eyes, but the smile on his lips lingers as he laces, still half-asleep, around the body at his side. Runs his hand around a tiny waist and up a flat chest, caressing a soft nipple on the way before drifting down again.

A moment later he awakes fully and realizes in the light of dawn that despite the similarities to his dream, the skinny being in his arms isn't Dael but _Ash_ , a half-Deltan he had met for the first time last evening. Who'd been wonderful and able to get him out of his fucking depressed state, and on top of that had invited him to stay for the night. It's been the best sleep he's had for a while, but he shouldn't overtax the invitation, he guesses, and retreats a little from her body. Besides, he really should go home first before hitting the admiralty.

She's still half-asleep but her hand reaches back and touches him, firm enough to stop him from leaving. Angling up one leg, her pelvis curves against him in an unspoken invitation. When he doesn't take it up, she whispers, "Don't leave yet."

"You tell that to every guy?" he whispers back, immediately annoyed about his stupid answer but she only pats his leg.

"Every being I let stay overnight." Her foot glides along his lower leg, and he reaches around, stroking her almost nonexistent breasts.

"I bet there are many…" he says, and starts pressing kisses on her shoulder.

She doesn't answer, only intensifies her own touches. He takes her from behind, and she's beautifully tight and it feels almost as dirty as when he does that with Dael. He comes much faster than he wants to, and draws out with the same guilty conscience as last night when she'd told him that Deltans don't have orgasms like humans do so he shouldn't concern himself with her pleasure. She'd feel enough from him.

His release brings both closure and a strange feeling of disconnecting, and he takes a shower all by himself and then dresses up. She puts on a bathrobe to lead him down the stairways, her hand lightly in his.

"Where's John?" he asks the Orion women who sit closely together on a couch in a kind of living room, watching some music vids.

"He left a while ago," one says. When he asks about paying, they shake their heads; it's all been settled already. They offer to call him a cab but he'd let himself get beamed home after a little walk, so he declines it.

Ash brings him to the door, and in the pale morning light, she looks like a mythical creature lost in the reality of the modern city — a fairy without wings. They exchange another kiss, and he embraces her for a moment, whispering a _thank you_ in her ear. She only nods, eyes soft on him.

"How would you want to get rescued?" he says as he's already out of the door, turning back to her. She looks down at him from her three steps above with an otherworldly smile and opens her mouth for an answer when steps draw close and silence her. They briefly gaze at the passerby; it's a middle-aged woman of slightly darker complexion, and Pike has a sudden moment of deja-vu, as if he'd met her before. But then the woman passes them with only a brief, albeit sharp glance and vanishes in the distance.

Ash draws the bathrobe a little tighter around her body, a light shiver running through her. "Only a miracle could rescue me," she says. Before Pike can ask for an explanation, she adds, "I never let anyone stay with me all night before."

"Oh," he says a little dumbfounded. "Then why me?"

"Because you are hoping for a miracle too," she says and places a kiss on his forehead before she takes a step back and closes the door to him.

Pike sighs. He dislikes riddles, especially when delivered by races that claim to be superior to humans. Walking away over the grey pavement, though, his strange feelings both intensify and dissipate in the cool morning air. _Everything_ is unreal - the night, Ash, her words — the only reality is the world he returns to, a world of meetings and messages and a species out there with every intention to destroy all that they have, their diversity, their humanity.

Just the things he'd celebrated tonight — the things that are worth living for.

*

When he hits his office, freshly showered and in a clean uniform, the lingering misgivings he'd had about the night vanish in the light of his markedly increased mood. In a way, he'd never thought about paying for sex because there are many methods to get it for free, but he doesn't regret this particular visit and sends Farnham a hearty thank-you message. With his new-found peace of mind, he's able to sit through three rather tiring meetings without zooming out or getting annoyed, which is a large improvement compared to the last weeks.

The day passes productively, and they're so well within schedule that they consider moving the Pathfinder launch forward. Pike and Thelin work on checking the possibility all evening, and it's already past midnight when they part, the draft of the new plan delivered to the console of every team member.

Once he hits his bed, he lazily jerks off with Dael in mind, sparing a few thoughts for Ash when he drifts into sleep, already wondering if he should visit her again in a few days. Considering her positive impact on his life, it might be just what the doctor orders… albeit not _his_ doc, maybe, Pike thinks half wistfully, half amused.

*

The first meeting the next morning is about their rescheduling, and despite everyone agreeing on the plan, there's a strange shift in the atmosphere compared to the day before. Esteban is tight-lipped and doesn't speak a lot, except in moments when he feels compelled to take a strong role as devil's advocate.

The team soon decides to launch a month earlier than originally planned, and Pike sends the good news right to Nogura's desk. At the end of the meeting, when everyone walks out, Pike calls after Esteban.

"Captain — please stay for a moment." They'd already had rocky times between them, and he doesn't need a second round of that with the young captain.

Esteban freezes. "Sir?" he says roughly and turns around, making a few steps back towards the table with his arms stiffly at his sides.

Pike gets up and walks around his desk to face Esteban. "What's the matter with you today, Esteban?"

"Nothing, sir," the captain replies, but his clenched jaw and hunched shoulders belie his words.

"Did I do something wrong again, something that goes against your beliefs?" Pike says, more sarcastically than he wants to. It has a phenomenal effect, though, as Esteban's eyes blaze at him in flaring anger.

"You're asking that? You really don't have an ounce of dignity left, sir."

Pike straightens. "Feel free to speak your mind — not that you seem to need an invitation anyway," he states.

"You _bought a girl_."

First surprised, then annoyed, Pike rolls his eyes at the old-fashioned statement. "And you would think that why?" he inquires coolly.

"My sister passed the two of you when you left the brothel yesterday morning. She's a social worker in that area."

Esteban's morals really come right down to the nineteenth century, and his whole family seems to be like that. "If anything, I booked a legal service. Nobody pressured into anything. Any problems with that?"

"Why should I have a problem with you fucking a kid that could be your granddaughter?" Esteban says scathingly.

"She's of age and licensed. Her papers were fine."

"She's Deltan. By their counting, she's only _fifteen_."

Pike briefly startles but then shakes his head. "She's an Earth citizen; her papers here are all that counts." It's impossible to keep track of the various legislative systems within Federation space; everyone's using the system of the planet he's officially living on.

Esteban makes a step forward, his face bright red. "You always have a good explanation for your actions, don't you? You'd always find a way to explain why you need to fuck someone, be it a guy or a cadet or an underage prostitute. It's bad enough that you're renting out your girlfriend to Kirk —"

At this point, Pike's fist neatly connects with Esteban's jaw, sending the captain sprawling to the floor.

"Your presumptions are incredible," Pike says white-faced, fists balled.

"You think you're an honorable man, but you're nothing like that," Esteban splutters and gets up on one elbow, wiping blood from his face. "You're a disgrace to all of the admiralty, and I'll make sure you'll get removed before you can ruin any more people."

"We'll see who'll end where," Pike states icily, rubbing his hurting knuckles.

There's a sound at the door, and they both turn their heads to find Pike's assistant clearing his throat. "Sir — a visitor for you."

"Not now," Pike says harshly.

"It's D'Kxthe, the Secretary of Defense," his assistant says, and jerks his head towards the anteroom.

There's no good way to send one of the highest-ranking Federation officials away, so Pike gives in. "Get out of here, Esteban," he snaps, pulling himself together. "We'll have words later."

The captain hurries up and leaves, holding one hand to his bleeding face.

Heaven knows what D'Kxthe might think of them now, but at least Pike is able to shake the neuter's hand with a straight face, accepting courtly congratulations for the updated _Pathfinder_ schedule on behalf of the team.

*

It takes Pike twenty agonizing minutes until D'Kxthe departs. Once the neuter is out of the door, he tries to call Esteban, but to no avail. Rather sure where the captain has gone, he rushes over to Nogura's office. From the way the assistants stare at him, Esteban's appearance has left quite an impression.

"He's inside, I guess?" Pike says, a rhetoric question, and walks into Nogura's office without waiting for being announced. Esteban jumps out of his chair, half raising his fists. Pike doesn't feel much like fighting, but he wouldn't mind give the bastard another punch either, so he gives him a deathly glare.

"Gentlemen!" Nogura admonishes them sharply. "Captain, please wait outside for a moment."

Ducking his head, Esteban passes behind Pike, keeping his defensive posture until he's out of the room. The door snaps close.

"Sir," Pike says extremely formally, "I don't know what Captain Esteban told you but I was strongly provoked."

Nogura waves at him. "Sit down, Chris. Please."

Pike stiffly takes the chair that had just been deserted by Esteban.

"That's a pretty mess the two of you created," Nogura says. "Until Esteban's stormy arrival here, I had supposed that everything worked fine between the two of you. Just this morning, your new _Pathfinder_ launch date caused a little sensation. It's the first project in decades to be finished earlier than planned. So I was quite surprised to learn about the captain's problems with you."

"They are _personal_ problems," Pike says. "A personal aversion to Kirk because of an old story in which he was not personally involved. A misguided obsession to protect Dael and others from my presumably bad influence. He's unable to accept that my lifestyle might be different to his."

Nogura eyes him, gaze unreadable. "Did you sleep with that Deltan escort?"

"Half-Deltan," Pike corrects him. "Yes, I did. A friend wanted to do me a favor. I checked her papers before we did anything; she's definitely legal, and the house she's working for has a good reputation."

Nogura sighs. "Legal isn't necessarily the same as legitimate, Chris. Considering the various articles that hit the press since you got together with Dael, a story about you paying for sex with a young woman of debatable age —"

"It's not debatable; she's of age on Earth," Pike says annoyed.

"— of debatable age," Nogura repeats flatly, "would give the public the sad impression that certain Starfleet admirals only think with their dicks."

Pike frowns and opens his mouth, but Nogura is faster.

"Also — is it true that you encouraged Dael to work in a night club?"

"Yes. Even worse," Pike states challenging, "I was the one who _organized_ the job for her because she needed one, and it worked just fine. The positive effect was visible in her various class results, feel free to look it up."

"You realize, though, that the impression an outsider would get —"

Pike raises his chin belligerently. "I never did anything illegal. It might not look good in your precious headlines, but it's not forbidden. You of all people should know that I do my best to support Dael. Esteban's insinuation that I somehow forced Dael to get together with Jim is laughable. They formed a connection based on their personal experiences months before Dael and I even got together as a couple."

Nogura raises a hand, gesturing him to calm down. "I believe you. I would never have allowed this relationship if I hadn't been sure that it would be in Dael's interest. Though I still have misgivings once in a while, I tried my best to explain my decision to Esteban. I know that he insulted not just you but your partners, so your punch was understandable. Though I'd really prefer an officer like you to have more control over his reactions."

Pike balls his fists. "I won't apologize. He keeps judging my private life by his outdated standards. He knows nothing of my lifestyle, and just as I wouldn't tell him how to raise his children, he shouldn't see fit to advise me about my partnerships and sexual life."

"Agreed," Nogura says. "However, you are both very important for the task force, and I don't want to lose either of you. So we need to find some sort of solution."

"I'm not sure I can work with him ever again," Pike says.

"Funny, he said the same," Nogura mutters and shakes his head. "Just a few more months, Chris, then he'll be in space."

"As you said, he insulted not just me but my partners, who are currently not able to defend themselves."

"He's willing to apologize for his words."

Pike tilts his head, rubbing over one eyebrow. "Is he?" he says in barely hidden disbelief.

"Yes," Nogura repeats. "He's aware that he's gone overboard, and as I said, I explained some things about Dael to him."

Pike leans back, taking a deep breath. "I'm not happy with that solution. I really don't want to work with someone who thinks I'm a disgrace to the admiralty."

"After the latest article with that picture of Dael and you in a rather indecent position," Nogura says serenely, "others have stated similar opinions about you to me. He's not alone with this judgment, Chris."

Pike flushes, remembering the rumors he'd once overhead in an admiralty restroom. Adding it all together, the truths and the lies, his reputation and public image have definitely taken a dive by now.

"I really would prefer you keeping out of the headlines for a while," Nogura keeps going. "Not the least because your work is definitely _not_ ready for the headlines, and being so visible makes you a potentially interesting target."

"It's not like I _try_ to get into the news," Pike says stiffly.

"You're not trying very hard to avoid it either," Nogura says, just a tad accusingly. After a brief pause, he says, "I want you and Esteban to work together for the remaining time. Do you think you can do that, if he apologizes?"

Realizing that Nogura isn't willing to remove Esteban from the task force, Pike knows that he could either accept them working together in the near future, or _he_ would be the one who'd have to resign from his position — and he's not ready for that, now less than ever as it would look as if Esteban's accusations had been valid.

"If he apologizes, I'll accept it," Pike says, his chest aching from the frustration he forcefully bottles up.

"Good." Nogura turns to call and order for Esteban to be sent in.

Esteban walks in, his back ramrod straight. The wound had stopped bleeding, obviously sealed with synthoskin. "Sir," he says stiffly with hands linked behind his back, looking only at Nogura.

"As I just told Admiral Pike, I want the two of you to keep working together until the _Pathfinder_ launch," the old man says. "Despite your personal problems, your collaboration at work has been extremely fruitful and Starfleet doesn't have the time or inclination to substitute either of you with someone else."

"I understand," Esteban says. It's clear that the captain is as unsatisfied with Nogura's decision as Pike is; but it seems to be one of those moments in life where following orders means shutting up and biting the bullet.

"Before you can return to work, the admiral demands an apology. He's understandably irritated by the insinuations you brought up, which have no root in reality."

Esteban clears his throat and turns to face Pike. "I apologize for insulting your partners and you," he says tonelessly. "I've come to understand that it's been the conscious choice of all people involved to enter this uncommon relationship, and that no pressure of any kind had been exerted. I apologize for insinuating otherwise, and this way sullying the honor of fellow Starfleet officers."

It takes quite an effort from Pike, but at last he manages to get the reply unstuck from his throat. "Apology accepted." He goes as far as extending his hand, and Esteban takes it visibly reluctantly, shaking it with a weak grip.

"I understand that both of you have different beliefs but do not let this get in the way of your extremely important work," Nogura says gently as they're ready to leave. "Many of our best teams are formed by people of very diverse backgrounds."

"Yes, sir," Pike says, eyes straight and jaw tight. "Thank you for your advice, sir." Esteban mumbles something similar, and then they walk out, the assistants completely failing at _not_ looking at them. Only in the corridor do the two men exchange a gaze.

"Sorry about that," Pike says with a nod towards Esteban's jaw. "Not my standard reaction, but…"

Esteban shrugs, his eyes guarded and a little hostile. "It seems to have been justified."

"We once agreed that our differences in opinion should not influence our working relationship," Pike says, trying to be friendly. "We both know now that's easier said than done, but I'm still willing to try."

"We don't have any alternatives, do we?" Esteban says stiffly. "See you tomorrow, _sir_." He salutes and walks away with long steps.

"Obviously not," Pike mutters quietly, filing away the captain's behavior. It doesn't look as if Esteban is very inclined to let it rest, having made up his mind about Pike's unworthiness.

With a muttered curse, Pike walks back to his office, keeping himself busy until late in the night and then working some of his tension out of his system in the admiralty's gym.

*

It's an uneasy truce between them, forced on them by Nogura, but it works better than Pike would've expected. It possibly shows that the working relationship between Esteban and him had never really recovered from their first conflict and that failed dinner invitation.

It was a mistake that he'd never told Dael that Esteban truly believed he'd forced her to get together with Jim — she would probably have been able to clear up this misunderstanding. But she's still unattainable, and even if the _Enterprise_ wasn't under radio silence, Kirk's word would never be enough for Esteban.

Esteban and he briefly confer about officially informing the task force, but then decide against it. The members on Earth already asked them in person, and the UP team doesn't need to get involved. The task force had been running smoothly despite their strained interaction; it is best to keep it at that.

The admiralty's rumor mill is in full swing, but at least it's not just about Pike this time.

*

Two days later a call comes in via his private number at midday. Pike excuses himself from the colleague he'd been walking with and steps aside.

"Alain here."

Pike turns, facing the wall. "Alain," he says, having quite forgotten about his ex over the developments of the last days. "You're calling about the apartment?"

"Yes." There's a pause. "Does your offer still stand?"

"Yes."

"I'm rather out of credits."

"It's been uninhabited for months. I'd be relieved to know someone's taking care of it for a while."

Alain's voice is rough when replying, "I don't want a handout, Chris."

Pike bends forward, forehead almost against the wall. "Fine. Three months for free, then we'll agree on a rent." When hesitant silence answers, he adds, "You're doing me a favor, Alain. Really. I've been wrecking my brain about what to do with the apartment, because I didn't want to sell it but I didn't want to rent it out to strangers either. So I'd happily shove the caretaking into your lap in exchange for living there." The silence lingers for another moment, just the sound of breathing in the line, then at last an "Okay." It sounds forced.

"Good. Let's meet at the apartment, 2100."

"Okay," Alain says and ends the call. That doesn't sound enthusiastic either, but Pike has no illusion about his ex-lover's situation; Alain would never have taken up his offer if not in dire need. He's still glad he can do something for Alain, strange as it might sound. He has got the means to be generous, so why the hell not?

He puts away the communicator and lifts his head, taking a deep breath. He'd have to go to his former apartment and see if everything's presentable, and he'd better do this right now. Stepping aside Pike seeks a good place to beam out when McAllister and Esteban pass him, speaking animatedly until the moment they see him.

"Gentlemen," Pike says with a nod, and they salute him quickly before wandering off together in silence. He looks after them with a strange feeling.

*

After a brief detour in the afternoon, Pike returns to his old apartment in the evening, with some general equipment and bed sheets. Truth be told, the place isn't really ready for anyone to live in it. Most furniture is gone, only the returned bed, a few small cabinets and an old chair have remained. The kitchen at least is complete and usable, the fridge already powering up. But it's a far cry from _homey_.

And now it's strange to stand on his old, tiny balcony and look over the city at night, waiting for the man who'd caused him quite some pain back then. They'd lived here together for a year, and if it had gone according to Pike's plans, they would've stayed together for many more, but that didn't happen. He's is more than glad when the bell rings, tearing him out of his trip down memory lane.

"Hey," Alain says when he opens to him. Pike eyes the small bag Alain carries.

"Just that? Not sure that's enough to get comfortable here."

"I'll be fine," Alain replies and puts the bag down in the corridor. Pike shows him around, noting Alain's tiredness. His ex looks a lot more exhausted than when he'd met him on the beach.

"Everything all right?" Pike asks when they're in the kitchen.

"Yeah, okay," Alain says. It's an obvious lie but it's not Pike's business to fix Alain's life, aside of the support he can easily give with this arrangement.

"I need to leave, got some work waiting for me," Pike says.

Alain smiles slightly. "Still work above all."

Pike feels annoyed; he'd stomached Alain's eternal criticism of Starfleet back then, but today it's not his exes' business any longer. "If you need anything, give me a call," he says coolly and leaves.

He scolds himself on the way home; getting annoyed about Alain would mean to give his ex a power over his mood that the man doesn't deserve anymore. Pike's life is okay, his current relationships successful; Alain could shove his criticism where the sun doesn't shine.

His own apartment is cool and empty, and Pike switches on twice as many lights as he needs, just to make it look livelier. He briefly toys with the idea to contact Ash, but with Nogura's warning voice in mind, he doesn't.

*

Burying himself into his growing backlog, Pike tackles more of the outstanding reports from the scientific experts, but whenever he brings up new background information on the Borg, it's usually discarded as not relevant for the current _Pathfinder_ upgrade. It becomes a grinding task that adds to his general frustration — a feeling that drives him both to the gym and to a higher level of whiskey consumption, a yellow tinge on his med app on more evenings than is good. He also doesn't sleep very well.

"Everything okay on your side?" Cho asks him one evening in a comm call, her gaze resting on his probably tired face in concern. "Your health…?"

"I'm fine, thanks," Pike lies.

Aside from Ash, he also vaguely thinks of calling Alain when he receives a message from the same.

_How about coming over for dinner on Friday? I could cook for us. ~ Alain_

Pike ponders his answer for two days before he declines. He might feel fucking alone, but not bad enough to hang out with his ex.

*

"Why don't you come over for the weekend?" Tom asks him in a call to his office on Friday. "We could go riding together. I know that you miss it."

"I'm busy," Pike says evasively. Family time wouldn't be the solution either; it mostly reminds him of the last time he'd been there with Dael.

"Come on, old man. The world won't end over a weekend trip."

Pike thinks of the latest analyses on his desk; more on the speed and agility of Borg ships, their current weaponry and technological prognosis, some of the details in old Spock's stories that slowly make sense in the big picture. "It might," he says.

"Uh." Tom draws a face. "You're just gloomy because Dael isn't around."

Pike shrugs. "She'll be back in a few weeks. Might as well spend my time on something useful."

Tom soon gives up over the finality in his voice and hangs up.

Pike faintly remembers that it's been part of his plan to drive out to Tom's farm more often, but really, he doesn't have the peace of mind right now to vanish for a few days. And as if to prove his point, there's a call on the line from Utopia Planitia, an engineer coming back to him with detailed, sensible questions for whose answers Pike would have to do some research.

No, he couldn't just walk away from this.

*

A week later, the _Enterprise_ is still under radio silence like quite a few other ships, rumors have it, and Pike grows increasingly concerned about the current Ship Operations plans. He tries to speak with Nogura but the old man mostly seems to be out of the building, and his office is less than helpful — which is no surprise after the showdown with Esteban.

Finally worn out by his frustrating work and sex life, he tries to call Farnham but nobody answers; they're either not there or don't answer his call. So against better judgment, he goes to a gay club and gets blown in a dark room by a nameless guy that smells nothing like Dael and feels nothing like the doc. He gets rather drunk too, for which he pays with a hangover for all the weekend, his med app accusingly disapproving as he lies on the bed and stares at the ceiling, not finding the energy to leave the house.

At last, he gives in and calls the house where Ash works.

"She's not here anymore," the woman on the other end of the line says.

"What do you mean? She moved to another house, or another city?"

There are whispers in the background, before the woman says, "I really can't tell you, sir. But if you need a Deltan…"

"No, thanks," Pike says and hangs up. It'd been that similarly strange combination that Dael has, fragility and vulnerability paired with inner strength and equanimity, that had attracted him to Ash. Well, and possibly her anorexic body, because he's got a strange conditioning by now. In any case — he can't imagine substituting her with anyone else.

He sends a message to Farnham, inquiring whether his friend knows anything about Ash's whereabouts.

"Time for lunch?" Farnham asks two days later, and they meet at a bistro they'd both never been to before. When they'd ordered, Farnham leans forward with a rather serious face.

"I don't see the Orions very often, so they didn't want to give me any information on the comm line. I drove there last night to ask about Ash's fate."

"What happened to her?" Pike asks in foreboding.

"Sorry to be the harbinger of bad news — but she died."

Pike involuntarily shuts his eyes. "No…" He opens them again, shaking his head incredulously. "What happened?"

"She had a rare form of cancer for which she'd been treated repeatedly. Whenever she could work, she did so, saying that sex made her feel alive. She appeared to be healed after her last hospital stay but she had a relapse two nights after we'd been there."

"Cancer," Pike repeats blankly. "So that's why she looked so undernourished."

"Yes." Farnham takes his hand, nudging it. "I'm sorry. If I had known that, I wouldn't have set you up with her."

"Why not?" Pike asks.

"Because it's damn depressing, that's what it is. Hell, it even depresses _me_ and I didn't really talk to her aside of checking her out for you. She was so young. It's a shame."

Pike stares at the wall, thinking of Dael who's just as young and possibly just as endangered. Not by her own body, thankfully, but by the situation she's in, not the least because of Farnham.

"I've got something for you," his friend says and pulls away to retrieve something out of his pocket. It's a white Origami butterfly.

"It's from the Japanese girl who lived two rooms away from Ash. It seem Deltans have that tradition that when someone dies, the visitors receive a token of their connection to the deceased. The girl wanted to honor that tradition, so she made some butterflies. Offered me one too but I didn't feel like taking it."

Pike rotates the piece of art between his fingers. It fits sadly well to Ash, who turns even more into a fairy in his head now than before the news of her premature death.

"She wrote Ash's full name inside," Farnham adds.

Suddenly, a well-known face appears over Farnham's shoulder. Startled, Pike snaps out of his thoughts and leans back, hiding the butterfly — he definitely doesn't want to give McAllister anything interesting to report to Nogura. Moments later, McAllister passes them with a woman at his arm and vanishes towards the first floor, apparently oblivious of them.

They eat in silence, the sandwich tasting like cardboard in Pike's mouth. He leaves half of it on the plate when they part, the butterfly secured in his pocket.

*

When he gets home that night, the first thing he does is carry the paper butterfly into the living room. He stops in front of Dael's artistic body shots. They had been hanging there for so long, sometimes he doesn't even notice them anymore. But now he looks at them fully, with a wistful smile remembering how she'd given them to him back then when they'd only been mentor and protégé, when he'd had no idea of how important she'd be to him one day. Her tattoos look so beautiful in them, but it's all about darkness and suggestions, half-hidden patterns in the shadows. Optically, Dael is a bit of a dark mirror to the fairy without wings that Ash had been, but in the end, both girls are neither demons nor angels, just kids trying to find their own way in a world that had not really welcomed them.

Ash hadn't made it, but as wise men say, nobody's truly dead as long as they're remembered, and he'd definitely remember her. He could even open the butterfly and read her true name, but like with Dael, it'd been the girl's choice to change it, so who is he to question the wisdom of her decision? Bad enough that he'd gone after Dael's hidden past lately; some things are meant to be left in the dark.

It's hard to find a good place for the Origami art as he's unwilling to pierce its wings with pins. At last he places it on the top of Dael's framed shot against the wall, an unstable position but it should hold unless there's an earthquake, and then he'd have more important problems than a fallen butterfly.

Farnham calls him twice over the next days, but Pike doesn't feel like answering.

*

On the surface, the task force keeps running smoothly and they're able to tick off quite a few items over the weeks.

Another round of orbit tests gets scheduled, and Pike only gives the list a brief look-over, ready to send it out — but then he stops. There's a test listed for the new dredger torpedo, as the engineers named it, a nasty little beast that drills holes into the enemy's ship. Nastier, though, is the fact that the same torpedo had failed its unit tests twice already, and Pike couldn't remember that it had passed a third test.

And actually, when he looks it up, it had not only failed all tests, but they'd also explicitly decided to leave it out of this testing round. Checking the document revisions, he finds Esteban's name tagged to the faulty entry.

"Captain Esteban — a word with you, please," Pike calls him, and minutes later, the captain appears.

Pike gestures at his screen. "Captain — care to explain to me why you scheduled the dredger torpedo for orbit tests when it hasn't passed the ground tests yet?"

Esteban faces him squarely. "It will be going through its third unit test at end of the week, and the signs are good that it will pass. If we don't schedule it for this round, it'll take another month before it's even going to be considered. This torpedo is an extremely valuable attack weapon and we'd be stupid to keep it out of the mission because of missing an arbitrarily defined timeslot by a few days."

"All enhancements are subjected to the same timetables — which, by the way, were defined by us collectively. Just as we all together made the decision to leave this torpedo out of the next orbit tests. You cannot simply decide which decisions to adhere to and which not," Pike states, controlled.

"You made the team decide that it should be left out."

Pike raises a brow. "Oh, I didn't know that the other officers are simply there to let my decision through on a nod. I'm sure Commander Cho would be surprised that you see her like this."

"Cho is an old friend of yours, she usually shares your opinions."

"Adding insult to insubordination," Pike says, pretending to be amused when he actually feels far from that. "Did you manipulate other test schedules to your liking?"

"No, sir," Esteban says stiffly.

Pike isn't sure he believes him, but it would be a hell of a lot of work to go through the past lists. "If you are unsatisfied with our decision, feel free to apply to our superiors. That is the official way to handle such disagreements. But if I find you violating another clear decision of the team, you'll be in serious trouble."

The captain nods sharply and stomps out.

*

Pike is not really surprised when a few days later, Cho calls him.

"Just got an addition to the orbit test listing — someone added the dredger torpedo to the tests. Didn't we agree that it's not yet ready?"

"We did, but Esteban had another opinion," Pike replies. "Who signed the order?"

"Nogura's office. A Commander Talas. Never heard of — him?"

"Her — she's one of the new Andorians."

"Never heard of her before," Cho concludes, a deep frown on her face. "I'm really concerned about Esteban's behavior. That's just bad style. Are there any problems between the two of you? I noticed that you tend to get angry with each other, and there had been rumors about a fight…?"

"Aside from him being someone who carries personal problems into professional relationships, we don't have a problem."

"Oh, damn. Maybe get him removed?" Cho suggests. "Not my usual preference for solving problems, but —"

"That's not my decision at the moment, actually," Pike says, and he can see it in her eyes that his message is interpreted correctly. "It was me who told him to address higher levels if he wanted to change our schedule. He obviously did, with success."

Cho shakes her head. "What's going on down there?" she asks concerned.

"Just a bit of 'fleet politics. The usual crap," Pike replies.

She looks doubtful. "Well, if you say so. I'm running out of time for now, but please, be careful." Cho signs off.

The dredger torpedo barely passes its third unit tests. When one of them prematurely explodes in orbit of Mars, Pike would be spiteful if not for the fact that two engineers are torn to pieces by it — this way, he mostly feels like a failure for not having insisted on getting the torpedo removed from the list.

Cho sends him an angry voice recording that sounds as if she'd been quite drunk, raving on about _dumb HQ assholes who are willing to kill people for a goddamn deadline_. She apologizes to him the next day, glad when he tells her he's deleted it. Pike badly regrets that he can't fall back on getting drunk anymore, and punches a hole into the sandbag of the admiralty's gym.

The tests proceed, and the deaths get chalked up as unfortunate accident.

*

On Tuesday morning, Pike is called to Nogura's office. Despite being a little tenser than he would've been in the past, he's also looking forward to seeing the old man. Maybe he could address Esteban's inclination to ignore the chain of command, but he'd have to word that very carefully. When he enters, however, only the commanders McAllister and Uganda are there.

"Please take a seat, Admiral," McAllister says, and he sits down opposite to Nogura's deputies. There's something of a disciplinary hearing in the air, though Pike wouldn't know why.

"What's the subject of this meeting?" he asks.

"How often did you attend receptions on Federation embassies over the last months?" Uganda asks back.

"Two or three times a week, maybe. The Federation is large…"

"You filed only few reports for these receptions. You know it's customary to write one about every single attendance?"

"Customary, but not mandatory," Pike says. "It's within the realm of personal judgment whether the events of the evening are worth a report of their own."

"So what events are not worthy to report, in your opinion?"

"Discussions about Andorian art, or Vulcan physiology? I'm not sure you'd want to read about green trots," Pike says a little amused.

"This isn't funny, Admiral," Uganda says with a frown. "You've attended forty-three events in the last months but filed reports only for twelve of them. Does that mean that all those evenings on which you spoke about the Borg have not been worth a report?"

"I never speak about the Borg, unless in very private moments and without going into detail," Pike says, straightening a little as he realizes what they're up to.

"And you also don't speak about the Borg weapons that are currently being developed on Utopia Planitia?"

"I don't. But I've become aware of the fact that rumors are spreading about our current plans. Various ambassadors have tried to pry information about it from me."

"Do you know where the rumors originated?"

"I suppose from the nations' own investigations. Everyone knows that most planets have their own intelligence forces that look into 'fleet plans. We've got a hundred people working on the project by now, it's bound to leak out over time."

"But none of this can be found in any report, no reference to which other planets seem to know about our plans," McAllister says.

"No," Pike admits. "I had a lot of work lately and didn't write as many reports as I probably should have."

They nod, but their stiff shoulders tell him that this isn't the end yet. McAllister thumbs through something on his PADD, then looks up at him.

"If we said we had information that you had been the leak through which other planets learned about the development, what would you say?"

"That that is a lie," Pike says instantly. "Who said that?" He wouldn't be surprised if this is Esteban's newest attempt to get rid of him.

McAllister ignores his question. "Maybe you had a weak moment, said something you shouldn't have."

"I've attended events for many months now, and yes, partly because of the Borg. We need to be prepared for war and we need allies for that in the Federation council. But I never divulged secret information."

"You said we need to prepare for war," Uganda says. "But since the _Pathfinder_ refit plans, your opinion about that seems to have changed. Maybe it's in your best interest when other planets wouldn't want to engage in a war with the Borg."

Pike leans a little forward. "I remain concerned about the use of future Borg technology that is way out of synch with our actual technological progress on vessels that are supposed to engage the Borg pro-actively. We'll be carrying weapons into the space of an enemy who might have a much better grasp on them than we do," he says sharply. "I am not opposed to a militaristic conflict per se. I think it is likely and necessary to engage the Borg very early. Considering how smoothly the Pathfinder project runs, you should realize how laughable your criticism is."

He gets to his feet. "Enough of this. If you have reasons to accuse me of treason, then file them and arrange an official hearing, with the details in advance to my desk so that I can prepare a defense. Other than that, we're done here."

"This meeting was intended to find out just this," Uganda says.

"And what's your conclusion?" Pike asks.

"For the time being —" Uganda exchanges a gaze with his colleague, and McAllister nods — "we will refrain from further measures. However, please make sure to file reports of any attended events in the future, so that others may be able to learn from the information you gathered during them."

"Fine. I can do that. Good-bye." Pike turns on his heel and leaves, not waiting to be dismissed. He fumes as he gets back to his office, angry with himself for having left such an obvious spot open for criticism, but angrier and also quite a bit unsettled about the way he'd been asked about his activities. Is that what Nogura thinks about his work, that he'd become the weak spot in his team, the man who would speak about the wrong things? Why is he even still leading the task force if the chiefs think he's a potential traitor, by chance or choice?

For more than an hour, he's unable to concentrate on anything else but the meeting; only then he's able to turn to other things on his list, various urgent messages waiting for his answer.

*

The strange meeting with McAllister and Uganda has a lingering effect on Pike. For the first time in months — aside from those when he'd been in the hospital or rehab — he decreases the numbers of receptions he attends, declining most invitations. The new-found time is mostly spent on walking home, taking a gulp of air. The city never sleeps but it's subdued activity at night, localized in certain quarters and around certain hot spots. The routes Pike takes are rather empty, his lonely steps resounding between the high buildings. He's almost at his apartment house when he notices a figure seated on a low wall.

"Chris…" the figure says as he's closer, reaching out for him.

"Alain?" Surprised, Pike helps up the man; he can't remember having told his ex where exactly he lived, but that's secondary now. In the low light he checks Alain's face — there's a gash above one eye, a bit of blood on the lips. "Who beat you up?"

"Nobody," Alain mutters.

"Let's call the police," Pike says, but Alain immediately declines.

"No, don't. I'm fine."

"Like hell." Pike snorts. "Fine, let's get you up and we'll have a proper look at you."

It's a strange déja-vu when Alain first takes a shower, then sits on his couch in borrowed clothes, exhausted and quiet; not unlike Dael when he'd picked her up back then.

 _Adopting another stray_? An ironic, ghostly voice sounding like Nogura's says in the back of his head. Pike shakes his head about the suggestion.

"Here, have a drink," he says and gives Alain a whiskey, sitting down on the other end of the couch with a coke for himself. "And then tell me about your trouble."

Alain's eyes are half-closed, one simply from swelling, the other because he's obviously drop-dead tired. The man winces as the alcohol burns on the broken skin of his lips. "It's nothing," he manages to say.

Pike sighs. "Don't even suggest you just happened to pass by my door when you got robbed by some random stranger. I'm not stupid."

"Please, Chris…" Alain tilts his head, looking absolutely done.

"All right," Pike downs his drink and gets up. He feels Alain's weary gaze resting on him as he walks out to get one of the extra bedding sets.

"You can sleep here tonight. The couch is comfortable." There are many empty beds, but they've got owners and Pike is disinclined to offer Alain any of them. "If you're hungry, help yourself in the kitchen. I'll go to bed."

He stalks out, and then lies awake for a full hour thinking about the strange fate that seems to have swept Alain back into his life. At least for one night, but well separated by doors and walls and Pike's absolute decision that he won't give his ex another chance to have an impact on his life.

*

The next morning, at the brutally early time Pike is used to getting up, Alain is still sound asleep on the couch, snoring away on his back with one arm curled around his chest. He looks relaxed but still rather beaten, and Pike, despite his original intention, can't find it in him to wake him up and show him out.

Pike briefly considers the security ramifications if Alain stayed here. Ever since letting Dael in his life, he'd upped security measures for his electronic devices in his apartment — they're just too far apart in rank, and most of his communications are strictly confidential, so his console and his PADDs are all on auto-lock the moment he walks away. Of course, there would be cabinets to go through but there's nothing really interesting in them, and he can't see Alain stealing anything from him.

Though, what did he really know about the Alain of today, the one who's going through a divorce and obviously has someone after him?

Pike compromises and puts a paper note next to Alain.

 _I'm at the office. The main door is locked. Give me a call if you need to leave before I'm back.  
_  
He doesn't feel at ease leaving Alain alone, but what else could he do?

*

"Sir, would you have the time to meet me in my office today?" Commander T'Sel of the JAG Department asks him over the line, and while Pike barely has a spare minute in his schedule, dealings with this department are better done as quickly as possible. They decide to meet an hour before his lunch break with Asimov, and he skips one of the task force meetings for it, making Thelin his deputy. Esteban wouldn't like that but Pike had mostly stopped caring about Esteban's preferences in things.

He walks to T'Sel's office which is located in the midst of the academy grounds, enjoying the breath of fresh air on the way. The Vulcan is waiting for him, giving him a salute before offering him a chair. He sits down, bracing himself for whatever might come.

"A complaint has been filed against you, sir," T'Sel says without ado.

"What for?" Pike says calmly.

"For conduct unbecoming in relation with a civilian member of the academy."

Having expected something in relation with Dael or Esteban, Pike raises his brows in confusion. "A _civilian_ member?" He goes through the people he's working with but comes up with a blank.

"Yes. The person reported that you have threatened her regarding her contact with your partner Dael. That you implied that if she doesn't keep away from her, you'd take measures against her within Starfleet."

Pike shakes his head. "I have no clue who or what you are talking about."

"The event the person relates to was five point three months ago."

He searches his memory, and then, at last, it clicks. "Roxanne."

T'Sel tilts her head. "So there has been a conversation between you and Mrs. Reef."

"Mrs. Reef was a friend of Dael and was strongly opposed to our relationship. We only met once in person, which resulted in this conversation. Mrs. Reef was adamant that due to our difference in age and rank, our relationship could be nothing but unbalanced. Obviously, I don't share this opinion, and neither does Dael. For all I know, they rarely have contact nowadays — not because I intervened, but because Dael was tired of Mrs. Reef's opposition to her relationship with me."

It's such an old story that Pike almost can't believe it's coming up again. What the hell did the woman think to file a complaint about their short conversation after all this time?

"So you would not only deny that anything worth of an official complaint has happened between you, but you would imply that Mrs. Reef's motivation for filing is of a personal nature and driven by a human emotion such as jealousy?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, Dael is not available to testify about her relationship with Mrs. Reef at the moment, as she's on her first mission and unattainable."

"Yes, we are aware of that," T'Sel says. "We are also aware that the cadet has moved in with you." She makes a pregnant pause.

"And?" Pike asks.

"Mrs. Reef has stated a concern that you would isolate Dael from her fellow classmates, either by design or by the relationship per se. Cadet Dael has stopped working at the job you once secured for her, and it seems that she is rather isolated within her academy year."

"She was getting mobbed by fellow classmates," Pike states. "Something that has hopefully stopped by now."

"After an intervention by you."

"Are we going to support bullying at the academy nowadays?" Pike says warily, unsure where T'Sel is going with this. "This intervention was more than overdue."

"It may have been wiser to use official channels to intervene on her behalf."

"Maybe, but I was eyewitness to an act of harassment and couldn't just stand by. I've been a CO for thirty years, do you expect me to walk away and file a complaint later?"

"The academy is not your ship, sir," T'Sel says. "And the cadets are not your responsibility."

"This one is," Pike says stiffly. "Frankly, I'm tired of discussions like these. People either criticize me for doing too little or too much for Dael — there's just no way for me to do the right thing. I don't know why Roxanne brings up that old discussion now, I didn't threaten her in any way. And I don't know why you'd take the developments between Dael and me, that we're living together and having a stable, publicly known relationship, and try to bring it up against me. What do you want from me?"

"I don't want anything from you, sir. It is my duty to follow up on complaints that are filed against officers. It is not, as humans might put it, a personal _witch hunt_."

"I understand," Pike says, roping in his misguided annoyance. "So what will you do about this?"

"We will put the further proceedings on hold until Cadet Dael is returned and ready for an interview." T'Sel presses a few buttons on the keyboard. "I am inclined to accept your explanation, but it poses the question why Mrs. Reef would file that complaint now."

 _Because it damn looks as if the world at large is up to ruin my career_ , Pike thinks. "I don't know," he says. "I'll take my leave now," he adds as he leans forward to get up, giving T'Sel a chance to stop him which she doesn't use.

"Thank you for coming so quickly, sir," the Vulcan states as she accompanies him to the door of her office. "You will hear from us."

Pike goes back to his office, but between this conversation and the lingering problem with Alain in his mind, he develops a splitting headache. He calls in sick and goes home, leaving his various canceled appointments to his assistant for re-schedule. The guy's probably going to fuck up half of them, as usual, but who cares.

*

"I thought about calling you but then found that I couldn't, with my communicator gone," Alain says as they sit opposite to each other in the kitchen. Pike looks at him over his cup of strong coffee that would hopefully support the pain pill he just took, which should tame the brutal headache in his forehead to manageable proportions.

"Sorry for that," Pike says. "Didn't even consider you wouldn't have one available."

Alain shrugs. "I've waited in worse places. Had some of your deluxe cereals for breakfast."

"Good." Pike sips from the coffee, enjoying the sharp tang of the strongest espresso setting his machine delivers. "I really need to sleep for a moment," he says. "Do you want to leave or —?"

"I'd rather stay here for now," Alain says.

"Good. Talk to you later." Pike slips off his chair and goes to his bedroom, quickly stripping out of uniform. His med app pulses in a subdued orange as he curls under the sheet, the discussion with Roxanne suddenly in his mind again.

 _"If you were a really decent man, you wouldn't have given in to Dael in the first place,"_ the woman had said. _  
_  
His answer had come without hesitation. _"Guess I'm not decent enough to say no to someone who makes every day more bearable just by being with me… I'm not saint enough to make myself and her unhappy by stopping a development between two consenting adults because certain people do not approve."_

Looking back, maybe he had done the wrong thing; maybe he should've been a truly decent man and let Dael live her own life, apart from him. She would have gotten over her crush on him, and he… if not for John's goddamn photograph, he might never have noticed how much he loved her… which might have been better for all parties involved…

When he wakes up again to his empty bed and the smell of food in the air, the headache is mostly gone.

*

"Thought I'd cook something," Alain says almost apologizing as he waves towards the prepared table.

"Glad you did," Pike says. He's not really hungry, but his med app is still complaining and only food would remedy that. Addressing the simple pasta with tomato sauce, they eat in silence.

"Come on, Alain, spill. What's your problem?" Pike asks when the table is cleared, only their two glasses of red wine remaining.

"Too many, I guess," Alain says with a sad smile. "Fucked up a lot of things over the last year. My family, my friends…"

"Still working in marketing?"

"No. Changed the company after our marriage because it didn't work with Carmen as a colleague, but I lost that job a while ago."

"That the time when you started with illegal trades?" Pike asks directly. When Alain looks at him in surprise, he adds, "As I said, I'm not stupid; this city is pretty damn safe for most people. What did you do?"

"I only helped a few friends of mine," Alain says defensively. "I didn't know they were stupid enough to deal with an Orion Syndicate — _Oanai Sqail_."

Pike straightens in alert as he hears the name. It's not a particularly large group but relatively active on Earth, much to the chagrin of the Federation. "If that's your problem, then you'll absolutely have to report to the authorities."

"If I do… I'll lose every right to see my kids." Alain stares down into his glass. "I wouldn't know how to survive that." He looks up. "No, I'll have to deal with that on my own for now. I'm sorry it became kind of your problem. They waited for me in front of your old apartment, so I can't go back — but I'll leave tonight, it's okay. I wouldn't want to endanger you, Chris. I'm glad you came to my rescue. Didn't give you any reason to be kind to me, considering how I treated you in the past."

Pike shakes his head. He might not be in favor of Alain's naïve take on the situation, but no way he'd let his ex walk out into obvious danger — he'd feel eternally responsible if two kids lost their father. "You can stay here for a few days. This place should be quite secure, as long as nobody knows where you are."

"I hope not," Alain says. "I made sure to change directions a lot."

"As for the syndicate, it's not something that will simply go away. You'll have to deal with that pro-actively. I'll talk to a few people, see what they recommend."

Alain draws a face, but Pike waves his hand. "You have to do something about it, or not seeing your sons will be the smallest problem in your life."

Alain drops his head, brushing his fingertips over his forehead. Pike watches him, feeling strangely sympathetic.

 _No, thanks_ , he forces himself to think. _Been there, done that_. This is simply his stupid tendency to be unable to resist helping _complicated cases_ , which will probably be his downfall one day.

"I've got to work," Pike says.

Alain laughs quietly. "Still working night and day? I hope they know what they've got in you."

"You still dislike the 'fleet, don't you?" Pike retorts.

"It's never been about the 'fleet. I know it's necessary. I just didn't like the influence it had on you." Alain smiles a little. "Always wondered who the man in that uniform really was."

"Obviously nobody you got to meet," Pike replies somewhat sharply.

"No." Alain nods. "Those shots in the living room, the tattooed girl — that's the one you bought the rings with?"

"Yes. And I hope you also saw the group picture in my office on your tour of my apartment," Pike says. "The four of us." He's not sure why he never says their names; it's as if some part of his brain adheres to the irrational, archaic belief that there's power in knowing names, and Alain shouldn't get a hold on them.

"Yes, I did. Sorry, I had time to kill and I was curious. But I didn't touch anything, just walked around," Alain admits, apologizing. "She's a good painter. I was surprised to see that. Somehow, I tend to think that everyone within Starfleet is as single-minded as you are."

"I do have other hobbies," Pike says stiffly. "Did a lot of horse riding, just not lately."

"Too much work, I guess."

"Yes," Pike says, because his health troubles are nothing to Alain. "Which means I'll leave you alone for now. I'll give you a guest entry to the media systems."

Quarter of an hour later, Pike can hear subdued noises of a movie coming from the living room, an old western from the sound of it. He hadn't watched a movie in weeks, always too preoccupied with this and that, and as he stares at his screen now, he wonders if it's been worth it. He'd done so well at the beginning, the first weeks without Dael, but the longer she's away, the worse he gets. Especially with the _Enterprise_ still under radio silence — but he tries not to think about that because it hurts a damn lot, and he can't do a thing about it.

Wishing there was someone else waiting for him on the couch, he focuses on a delayed report, numbing his sorrows with work.

*

Alain stays with him, and while Pike still isn't completely relaxed about having him in his apartment, coming home to the lights being on and the smell of food lingering in the air is an uplifting prospect. It makes his days in the office shorter, his inclination to withdraw from too many unpleasant meetings higher. He spends some time investigating the Orion Syndicate problem and connects Alain to two of the leading specialists in the field, hoping his ex would make good use of that.

Still unwilling to give his visitor any of the available beds, Alain sleeps on the large, comfortable couch in the living room and would probably have remained there if not for one of those nights in which Pike is plagued by another nightmare. Their contents have moved away from their vague Narada theme over the last weeks, now more often featuring him running away from a shadow. Sometimes he escapes; sometimes he's shot and goes down, unable to move when steps draw close.

It's a first though when that night, the shadowy figure reaches him and pitch-black boots stop in front of his eyes. There's a pregnant pause before one boot, like in slow-motion, kicks his face. He can feel his nose breaking, a dozen missions gone wrong having carved that particular agony into his mind, and he still can't do a damn thing but groan because he's paralyzed on the ground, unable to fight, unable to run, just waiting for the next kick…

"Hey, hey," someone says. "Come on, wake up." He's shaken and shaking as he opens his eyes to the bright light of the room. Alain is bent over him, and he takes in the sight with an enormous feeling of relief. His ex wears boxers only, and while Pike usually prefers a more natural look on his men, Alain's pronounced bodybuilder muscles are a great thing to look at after the horrors of his dream. They look strong — protective.

"All is fine, Chris," Alain says, tender hands on his shoulders. "Get nightmares a lot?"

"Too many, too often," Pike says, clutching Alain's lower arms. "I've been good while she's been here, but now…"

Alain nods in understanding, holding him for another moment before withdrawing to leave.

"Hey," Pike says, raising one hand after him without touching. "Stay here?"

His ex looks at him in surprise. "You're sure?"

"Yes. Please." Pike moves to the side, and after a moment of hesitation, Alain slips into bed next to him.

"This doesn't really change anything," Pike says, aware how shitty this must sound but he needs to get this clear before they move on to… whatever. "I just don't want to be alone. But I don't love you anymore."

"I know that you love someone else," Alain agrees.

"Dael. Her name is Dael." Pike closes his eyes as Alain runs a hand down his naked side. "And Jim and Leonard. And they're all out of reach at the moment, and it kills me." His own fingers glide along Alain's back, up to the well-defined shoulder muscles.

"I'm sorry I'm not them. But you're not the only one who doesn't want to be alone, so don't you think I'm sacrificing myself here." Alain smiles.

Much later, when they're laced around each other after satisfying blowjobs, Alain's lips are close to his ear, whispering, "I missed you. You might not believe me but I missed you a lot."

 _Missed you too_ , Pike could say, but it's still fucking damn over between them.

*

There's a text message on his office console, its origin untraceable. He reads it twice before he really believes that it's from Dael.

_Christopher,_

_I wish I could tell you where I am, share the beauty and the challenges with you. I miss you as if a piece of me is missing; it hurts less every day but it never stops. At nighttime, I dream of you by my side. At daytime, I need to forget about you all and be someone else. It's not a bright world where I am, but it is fascinating and welcoming to me. The future is unclear and the plans short-lived but never forget that I love you. D._

He sits in front of the message for a long time, his fingers close to the screen as if he could touch her in the displayed words. Her message is full of foreboding, and there's nothing in it about a swift return. On the contrary, references to unclear future plans make it likely that her absence would again be prolonged. Does she plan to stay in Romulan space, where her tattoos would be nothing to be looked at twice? Does it make enough of a difference to leave her Starfleet plans behind and keep working undercover in a situation where she must be under enormous pressure?

And does he mean so little to her that he doesn't weigh into her plans at all, making him just a severed limb? He closes his eyes, the familiar numbness in his chest substituted by a flash of pain.

He keeps up the façade through the day until he gets home. Alain is waiting there, and it's not what he really wants, but it's better than nothing and he has the feel that it's going to be all he'll have for a while.

_His last resort — his unfaithful, criminal ex._

It would be funny if it didn't hurt that much.

*

Having enough of his ridiculous level of self-pity, Pike determinedly shoves every thought of his cloverleaf aside for a while. He takes regular meals, drinks sufficient water, and keeps away from alcohol although Alain pushes a glass of wine at him once in a while. He also exercises again, mostly weights, some treadmill — in short, he does everything to get his life and health under control.

It just doesn't really improve anything. Everything feels like it's going downhill, a lingering depression framing everything Pike deals with at the moment. It's like walking through molasses, every fleeting moment of feeling good just interspersing the dreadful, drawn-out agony of his normal days.

And one evening, the event he'd joked about truly happens; his door bell rings without prior warning, and a few minutes later Farnham walks into his apartment with a serious face.

"Didn't know you're back in town, John," Pike says, paling as the one reason why his friend would come in person, alone, springs to his mind. "Do you bring news about Dael?"

"Keep calm, she's fine. I only came to say —" In this moment, Farnham spots Alain in the kitchen door, and Pike can see first immense disbelief, then bright anger flaring in his friend's features.

"Whoa, why do I even _think_ you care for news about Dael?" Farnham says sharply.

"Come with me." Pike pulls his friend into the office. The second the door is closed behind them, Farnham rips him a new one. " _Alain?_ Are you out of your mind?"

"Come on," Pike says, raising one hand in defense. "It just happened. I know it's a bad idea —"

"Fucking Alain is a really stupid idea and I can't believe that you do it. He dumped you once and he'll do it again in the wink of an eye if he doesn't get what he wants from you."

"We're not in a relationship or anything. This is just a temporary arrangement."

"Is he living here? Sleeping in your bed?" When Pike doesn't answer, Farnham laughs darkly. "See, that's what I thought. And nobody of your tribe around to slap some sense into you. What are you going to do when Dael returns? Dump her for him?"

"No," Pike says firmly. "I'm only helping him out. This is temporary."

"Shit, man." Farnham shakes his head. "Watching your love life is like watching a train wreck bound to happen."

"This isn't about love, John. It's about companionship — about not being alone. It's not like you've been a lot around either —"

"Thank you for congratulating me on getting my job back," Farnham says scathingly. "It's not as if Eric's been waiting for a call from you, and you know damn well that he cares a lot about you. But no, you'd rather hang around with that asshole ex of yours. Did he have a teary story for you? Because everyone knows about that Good Samaritan complex you've got going by now. Ever get checked for personality changes after your last hospital stays? It might explain something."

Pike inhales deeply before answering. "What did you want to tell me about Dael?"

"Ah yes, Dael." Farnham strains his shoulders. "Her return date has been moved again, she'll be back at least two months later than planned. If you still care about her fate."

Pike holds back the impulse for a really cutting answer to this unjust accusation. Instead, he takes the news as fact. "Two months. She'll lose an academy term this way."

"She accepted the prolongation. It's her decision."

"As if Intelligence wouldn't know how to word it best to get their agents' agreement," Pike states sharply.

"As if you don't know how to manipulate if you want to," Farnham states just as sharply. "Don't tell me a captain never has to resort to that." He slaps the nearby wall with his palm. "Damn, Chris, we've had such a great friendship again. Eric and I, we have offered so often. You'd always be welcome with us. Why did it have to be Alain? Don't you ever learn from old mistakes?"

"I mostly learned by now that there's just no lover except from yourself you'd agree with," Pike retorts. "You didn't want to see me with the doc or Jim, and you never liked Dael either."

Farnham struggles for words, then says quietly, icily, "I may have been jealous of them for a long time, yes, but that's a thing of the past. And I always trusted those three that they would take care of you. That they wouldn't take flight and leave you in a mess. Alain _will_ run, and he _will_ leave you in a mess."

"Not this time," slips out of Pike's mouth, and the statement hangs in the air between them, all the underlying hopes that Pike hadn't faced yet suddenly out in the open.

"Oh, damn." Farnham's shoulders sink as his friend pulls away. "I see. Well, then, I'm going to take my leave. Good luck, Chris, you'll need it. And if you need someone to pick up the pieces — don't call me." He leaves in a rush.

"You were right about John," Pike says when Alain joins him. "He never liked you. In fact, he never liked anybody who's closer to me than he is."

"He doesn't matter," Alain replies, putting one arm over Pike's shoulder.

 _He does, but there are others who matter much more_ , Pike thinks.

Farnham is right, he doesn't know what to do about the situation, and so he lets it be and goes to bed with Alain.

*

The next morning, Pike should deal with important messages, but instead he sits in front of one of Dael's pictures for a long time, turning his ring with three fingers.

 _I wish you'd never gone on that mission_ , he dictates into a message to her. _I can't believe how much my life is falling apart without you_.

Half an hour later he reads through it, and through all the other never-sent messages, and in a flush of bone-deep frustration and anger about his stupid sentimentality and heartache, he deletes them all irrevocably.

 _It's not as if anyone cares about the shit he writes anyway.  
_  
The messages are barely gone when he's jerked out of his funk by Nogura's sudden appearance. "Chris, would you have a minute?" the old man says gravely.

He follows him into his office, where Nogura points him at the visitor's chair, then takes a seat himself and switches on the big wall screen.

It's a news article from one of the worst yellow presses, and its most prominent feature is a shot of him on his knees sucking dick, the byline reading, " _What Starfleet can do for you_ ". Pike stares at it numbly, trying to figure out when it had been taken and who he'd been with. The other person is barely visible but no matter how much he wrecks his brain, there's only one situation that would fit to the strange angle from the side and above and the rather bony hips under his hands… the day when Dael and he had bought and test-run her dildo in that sex shop.

Who the hell had captured that and given it to the press at a time when it would exasperate Nogura the most?

"I take it you know where this is from?" The old man's voice is grave, with a tangible edge of frustration.

"Yes."

"May I ask what you were thinking?"

"Not much, obviously," Pike says tonelessly. His cock had done all the thinking in that moment when Dael had challenged him — though he would've gone down on her anyway, probably.

"The press office will do its best to get it out of circulation, but you know how such pictures keep a life of their own."

"Yes."

Nogura shakes his head, as if he wants to add something, but then only says, "Dismissed."

"Heihachiro —" Pike starts a little helplessly.

"Dismissed, Pike." The old man turns away from him, shutting off the wall screen and not looking up again.

Pike grits his teeth and walks out. Once he's in the corridor, his brain slowly starts working again, and when he's back in his office, he sits down to find the article. He stares at the picture; this hadn't been taken by chance. Even if the shop had cams — which he doubts, considering it had a mostly female, sensitive customer base — they would have needed to get it from the shop owner, which he doubts even more. The only other explanation is that they'd been followed that day, and he idly wonders whether he or Dael had been the original target. There's one person he could ask, though after the latest argument with Farnham, he's not exactly inclined to call him.

He fights with himself, then finally sends the article to his friend anyway.

 _"If that's your bureau's attempt to get me out of the office, they're doing a good job for once. C."  
_  
It takes three day before Farnham replies.

_"Seems you're contributing to that just fine. Should learn to keep your dick in your pants. J._

P.S. Nobody around here admits to knowing about the picture."

Pike can't really believe that.

*

The meeting is long and tiring, and Pike has a hard time concentrating — like often lately, which possibly comes from his lack of good sleep and the general exhaustion he feels. Still, he does his best to keep track of their endless lists, and says at one point, "About the updated shield parameter tests, I think we could schedule them for next week." He lifts his eyes from the PADD and stops as everyone looks at him.

On his right side, Thelin bends a little forward. "We've already decided that, sir," the Andorian says quietly.

"Oh, I must have missed that today," Pike says. "Carry on."

"We decided that already two days ago," Esteban says, and underneath the usual vibe of disdain, there was a sudden hint of concern.

"Oh." Pike doesn't know what to say. It's not been uncommon that he'd missed a detail lately, but he'd never forgotten an actual _decision_ so far.

"I think we're quite done with our meeting," Thelin says, looking around. "Let's move the other topics to our next meeting on Friday."

Pike knows that young man is trying to save him. With a heavy heart, he keeps sitting until all but the two of them are left.

"Do you feel well, sir?" Thelin asks with concern.

"I don't feel particularly unwell," Pike says, which isn't a lie considering that the leaden feel in his body and brain lately are pretty much standard — and that's probably the sign that he's in a bad state. But at least not bad enough to end up tied to a table under the SFM scanner, thank god for small pleasures.

"May I be of any help?"

Pike looks at the young lieutenant, who he'd fantasized about once in a while, and Thelin firmly holds his gaze. There is an unspoken invitation lingering but Pike is too exhausted to take the man up on it. He doesn't need another potential problem in the admiralty. Besides, there's Alain now...

"No, thanks," Pike says at last. "Dismissed, Lieutenant." Thelin hesitantly leaves him alone, and he keeps sitting in the meeting room, eyes unfocused and PADD set to unresponsive, until the next group comes to claim it.

*

He dreams about his lovers that night. It's all about him, all three focusing on what he wants, and in the end it's the doc who leans over him, showing that special smile from those moments when Pike had given all of himself, and they have magic, beautiful sex.

 _Mine, you're all mine_ , the doc says, but then Jim comes and steals him, steals everyone until Pike is alone, the room empty, the walls bare, and the sound of rain the only thing left.

*

The sound of rain, it turns out, is for real, and slowly carries Pike out of his almost-nightmare into reality, where he finds green eyes resting on him in sympathy. Pike lifts his hand, running it down his exes' face. When his thumb meets the pale lips, Alain licks on it without hesitation.

For weeks, he had taken care to keep them apart and limited to blowjobs, something safe and distant, but he's tired of that and badly needs more today to get rid of the profound sadness that lingers from the dream. He unfolds his legs and moves them both into the scissors position they'd used during many morning fucks back then, one of his past favorites.

"You really want that?" Alain asks hushed as their legs lace.

"Yeah," Pike murmurs and rubs one finger along Alain's lower lip. Alain runs sensual hands down Pike's side, making him shiver a little, then pulls away for the lube. It's a brief pause before the fingers dive in; it's a bit cold and strange for a second, but then they warm him up, and Pike moans as they dig deeper, stimulating his prostate.

Alain is up on the other elbow, putting kisses on his chest and nipple as he deepens the stimulation. "Touch yourself," he whispers, and Pike obliges, fisting his own erection in time with the pushes and pulls. He smiles expectantly as Alain draws out and angles his erection for penetration. Pike whimpers as the welcome intrusion comes far too slow for his taste. "Damn tease."

"You always complained, and you always liked it."

"Fuck yes." Pike takes a deep breath as the dick is finally in up to the hilt, and Alain just holds on for a second before starting slow, rolling movements.

"Keep touching yourself," Alain whispers. "Give me a show."

With effort, Pike gets back to stimulating his hard-on, running his fingers up and down, teasing the glans, nudging the balls, trying to give Alain a good look on what he's doing, while his ex gives him a fabulous, well-paced ride, nudging one of his nipples with gentle fingertips.

He shifts his hips, giving them both another centimeter to go deeper, and is rewarded with Alain's groan. The pace picks up a little, and they dance on it with their breathing growing harsher, quicker, but still torturously controlled when all Pike wants at this point is to get fucked through the mattress.

"Another time," Alain says, and Pike whines a little in an unvoiced complaint. Rolling his hips forward, Alain rides him in fluid motions. "Keep touching yourself, Chris. Keep touching… yeah… come on, I want to see you come."

Pike coils, his head and shoulders lifting from the bed as he crosses the point of no return, bucking into his hand as he comes hard, his ejaculate splattering all over his groin and belly. Alain joins him, pushing deep into him in his own orgasm, riding out his own and Pike's in one gorgeous crescendo.

At last Pike sags back on the bed, depleted of all energy, just enough left to groan when Alain licks him clean, broad strokes of a tongue along his skin. Pike curls one hand into his ex' hair, caressing him. Now that he's slowly coming back to his senses, he wonders if it was a good idea to let Alain in like that.

But maybe he'd already done that on the very first day of seeing him again.

*

It's a number he's never seen before but as the call comes in via his private account he accepts it anyway on this early morning.

"Hey, Chris," Eric's voice says on the other side of the line.

"Eric." Pike switches on the viewer. Farnham's boyfriend looks unusually serious but forces a smile on his face when they see each other.

"Thought I'd give you a call, say hello," Eric says vaguely. "Sorry for not having kept in contact more often. I've been terribly busy lately, jetted all over the planet for weeks."

"No problem." Pike shrugs. "You're not my keeper. And John isn't either, for that matter," he adds, jumping right to the presumed heart of the matter.

Eric draws a face. "Yeah, well… I don't know the old story and I really don't have an opinion, but it's strange to think you'd have such a fall-out over someone. Maybe if the four of us would hang out together, like with Dael..."

"John hates Alain," Pike says. "That's nothing that's going to be fixed over an evening. And while it's nice that you called, you definitely shouldn't get between the front lines here. Don't make it your problem."

"I really like you," Eric says softly. "I wish we'd hang out together some more. It's been always… special."

"Yes, it's been that, but it wouldn't work right now." Pike's console announces his first meeting, and he shakes his head. "Have a good time, Eric. I'm sure things will straighten out again — they usually do between John and me, though it might take a while. Don't take it too seriously."

"Okay. Take care, Chris." Eric signs off.

Pike sighs. Eric is such a sweetheart, but he'd have to learn which challenges to pick. Trying to make John accept Alain is way over the young man's head and could only end in disaster.

*

 _I'm concerned about you_ , Nat writes in a message that comes with a billion attached shots of her and her husband, smiling all over on every single one of them.

 _Tom says you're keeping away from them, and John told me that Alain is back and living with you? Please tell me that Dael is going to be around soon again. I miss you all, but Robert is determined to show me around some more planets. He says after giving up Starfleet in the past, it's the least he could do for me. He's the best thing that ever happened to me.  
_  
Pike doesn't feel like reading about anyone's wonderful vacation trip when his own life is toggling between unsatisfying and problematic, and his reply might not be as charming as it could be. He might also have been a little drunk when writing it late in the night but it's already sent off by the next morning, with no chance of calling it back.

_Dear Nat,_

John is a nosy asshole and should keep to his own damn relationship instead of interfering with mine. It's only because of him that Dael is on a mission where I can't contact her at all and which just got prolonged for who knows how long. The Enterprise is somewhere out in space and I don't know where either, and I'm tired of it all.

C.

P.S. Stop sending me pictures of happy couples, it depresses the hell out of me.

He probably deserves it that the next bunch of pictures features ugly, stone-faced gargoyles that snarl at him with distorted grimaces.

_We've visited a cathedral built by humans on Asidian II and instantly thought of you when seeing these._

Take care — Nat.

*

The days go by and he catches himself staring at the photograph of the four of them on his office desk one morning, remembering the words he'd once said to the doc.

 _"I know how it is to be on a ship. Everything that is not within daily sight feels like it almost doesn't exist. It's a life apart, and that's what many of us were looking for when we went into space."  
_  
How could he ever think he'd really be a part of them, when they're away most of the time. And Dael… who knew if she'd ever return, now that she seems to have found something really worth fighting for.

Pike shakes his head, despising himself for his thoughts. He'd wanted to sign in their names, bought a ring with Dael because he'd meant it, even studies that terrible language for her — he wants to be with them, he wants to believe in a future together. But right now, as reality cuts sharply through his dreams, it's hard to hold on to that thought.

 _There might be a train wreck after all_.

"Good day, sir," Asimov greets him cheerily when walking into his office with brunch supplies in his hands, and Pike forces an answering smile on his face; he might never need the Romulan he works on, but the young lieutenant has become one of the better aspects of his life, and for that he's grateful.

*

Despite the lingering danger for Alain, Pike decides that they absolutely need to get out for a night, and with a carefully planned escape by beaming, they land in his club, which should be relatively free of criminals. Putting Alain's face under a half-mask is the second layer of protection and should be enough to disguise him in the relative dark of the club. Having escaped their self-made house detention, they spend an enjoyable evening that includes some hot sex in Pike's private room as well as socializing at the bar.

"Finally came back to your senses?" Ole says when they're about to leave in the early morning, and the statement is like a slap into Pike's face.

It's true, most of his casual club acquaintances seem to think that tonight's companion is much more up his alley than Dael. With her, Pike is an outsider to all communities — they always end a little apart from everyone, without having had enough time to build a circle of friends together so far.

With Alain, Pike is just a guy with another guy, and nobody's batting an eye about that in this century. They fit in smoothly, no need to explain anything, nobody getting a shock from some tattoos. The only remarks Pike and Alain had received tonight had been along the line of how well they fit together, charming compliments from people who would have liked to be included in their action.

It would be so easy to fit in, and it shakes Pike's world a little, the world in which he buys rings with the girl he loves, but which is also the world that rarely acknowledges what they have, mostly only criticizes them. Maybe that's part of what had driven her away.

"Anything wrong?" Alain asks when they're home, and Pike shakes his head, unwilling to reveal the cause for his bout of sadness and frustration.

"Come here," Alain mutters and pulls him into an embrace, for the first time supporting him just like a partner would do, with a shoulder to lean on and gentle words to lighten up his mood.

Pike doesn't sleep well that night, and it makes his med app pulse in dangerous shades of light red in the morning, which he can only tame with an extra shot of medicine.

*

The next day starts with bleary meetings, so Pike decides he needs something intellectually challenging for a change. When Asimov meets him in his office for lunch, Pike gets right to the point of what has been on his agenda for the longest time.

"You're once said that Dael writes in boards. Show these boards to me," he says, his sandwich ignored on a plate next to him.

Asimov gives him a reluctant look. "It's been months that she wrote anything. Her opinions might've changed since then."

It gives Pike a fair idea of what she might have written, statements bordering on treason, maybe. "Considering that Intel nevertheless shanghaied her and she made it through all security tests, it can't have been too bad."

"Intel?" Asimov asks with an alert gaze.

"Yes," Pike confirms. He's not quite sure why he's saying it now, besides wanting to make Asimov open up a little beyond their strictly professional interaction. Deal's ongoing radio silence makes him itch to read all she'd written - there's a Dael beyond what he knows of her, and he wants to get a feel for that person. "So please, show them to me."

Asimov gives in, surfing with him to the boards she'd written on.

"That's her profile." Her picture shows one of her tattoos, the one above her heart. Her nick translates as _One Spica_. The slogan is convoluted, and Pike needs Asimov's help to translate it; it boils down to _Only humans ever hurt me_.

"Not an exactly uplifting slogan," Pike notes. The profile dates a few months from before her Academy admission.

"She felt like a teenager to me when I read this," Asimov says. "You know, people with the feeling that the whole world is against them. The way she wrote in the forums only supported that view."

They list her entries, coming up with hundreds. They wouldn't have time to go through them all, so Pike randomly opens those with interesting subject lines.

" _Re border protection policies_ " brings up a brief comment that doesn't make sense without reading the whole thread, so he surfs on to " _The artist in Romulan culture_ ". It is a rather well-written article by her about the deep embedding of art in Romulan culture, where basically everyone feels the need to express themselves through art. As freedom of expression is limited in the Romulan Empire, art is frequently used with strong encoding and symbolism, and she lists a few examples of this. He's a bit surprised about the depth of her analysis; her father had been human, after all. At least this posting is beyond criticism.

Pike moves on to something more political, " _Re Federation influence and border conflicts_ ". A discussion that shows a tendency towards conspiracy theories, happening in a board that claims they've got the only full list of military campaigns of the Federation against Romulan space. Pike skims through it, checking for some of the secret campaigns he knows of. He finds them all — it seems surprisingly complete, listing many encounters that should never have left confidential documents. Various campaigns are documented in detail, with photographs, strategic diagrams and timelines. He wonders where the contributors sit, whether the Tal'Shiar feeds most of it or if the people contributing think they fulfill a duty in informing others of what happens far out there in space.

From a militaristic viewpoint, Pike is strongly against whistleblowers because it endangers the crews out there; from the viewpoint of a Federation citizen, he cannot help thinking that some information leaks are necessary to allow the public to act as a supervisory body of the government. No matter how good someone's intentions are, there's always a chance of major fuck-ups, decisions gone wrong, and if they're never published and brought to justice, the politic atmosphere will get poisoned over time. Overall, Pike thinks, freedom is more endangered by cover-ups than by publications. But on the level of individual lives, it's different.

It makes Pike wonder if their current Borg activities are documented out there in the cloud. He could probably ask Farnham but they're not really on good terms right now.

"What bullshit," Asimov says over the long list. "As if Starfleet would do that."

Pike looks at him. "The Federation is large, Lieutenant, and Starfleet not the only fleet out there."

"You mean — that list is correct?" The young man pales.

"Probably not everything in it, but a fair amount." Pike leans back in his chair. "There's a difference between political statements, and real life politics. The relationship with the Romulan Empire is very complex. And this list doesn't show the various campaigns of Romulans against Federation space."

"Guess their government would've instantly deleted it and then executed the writers," Asimov says ironically.

"Maybe." Pike takes a bite of his sandwich; if he didn't eat now, his med app would raise the first alert. "Did you ever write in these boards?"

"Rarely. As I once said, they're mostly fans of anything Romulan. Many of them are humans or other Federation citizens, who haven't even been to Romulan space." Asimov curls his lip in disgust. "They've never had to buckle under a Romulan whip."

"But you had to."

The young man squares his jaw. "Read my file if you want to know details. I'd rather not speak about it."

"And you still have a major in Romulan linguistics and culture."

"I wanted to use my knowledge for something good. Defend the Federation from this threat, not add to it," he says with a glare at the screen.

"For them, we are the threat."

"We're different. We wouldn't stop ships and take innocent people as slaves."

"We stop ships and make innocent people end up in detention centers," Pike says.

"That's different," Asimov growls.

"I agree," Pike says calmly. "But often not as different as we'd like it to be."

"You know what Nero did. You saw it live, as I well know."

Pike frowns, shaking his head. "He was one mentally disturbed Romulan. That doesn't say anything about a species, or we'd all be Hitlers."

"They applauded him, right here." Asimov points at the board. "Found excuses for his actions, indulged in wild fantasies of why he was moved to destroy a world."

"I bet not all did."

"Too many. I wish this board didn't exist."

Pike nods, rubbing a finger over his bottom lip in thought as he looks at the lieutenant. "Did Dael defend him?"

"No, she didn't go that far. But she strongly criticizes Federation politics regarding the colonial planets along the border, claiming that much too often people who are working on international understanding are seen as enemies, despite the Federation tagline of supporting variety. She also thinks that Vulcans preach IDIC but rarely live it."

"I'd probably agree with all her points."

"You didn't read her postings. They just - I just don't know what she's in Starfleet for, when she keeps raving on about its failures," Asimov states.

"She wants to make a difference. Make sure that next time, maybe a colony is protected as it should be."

Asimov shakes his head and falls silent, taking a bite of his own sandwich.

Pike goes back to randomly surfing the board. He could read and translate Dael's other postings at another time; right now it might be more interesting to get a feel for the other contents. He idly scrolls through more discussions about politics, taking in the strong pro-Romulus focus of them all. Then he goes back to the art forum, looking at a few discussions, nothing too interesting but -

He makes a double-take as he gazes at the picture of an older Romulan with a teenaged human girl on his lap that looks like…

Pike reaches for the PADD with the old photographs of Dael he'd scanned.

"What is it?" Asimov asks curiously. Pike scrolls to the picture with her father and shows it to Asimov.

"That's Dael," Pike states, and spell-bound they check the images together, back and forth between the posted shot of the artist and the shot of teenage Dael.

"That's her," Asimov agrees. "So they've been in the same colony?"

"Obviously," Pike says thoughtfully. "Do you think we can contact the man?"

"Not anymore," Asimov replies, reading the text around the pictures. "The man was Al'Retrrln, an artist. He died a fortnight ago. His son made this posting to announce his passing to the community. Seems they live in the Aethhon enclave on Pluto. Exiled Romulans."

"What's his son's name?"

"T'Anihl."

 _T.A_! Pike's heart makes a joyful leap. He can't believe that he's actually managed to trace down someone from Dael's past — someone she'd probably be delighted to meet again. _If she ever returns, that is_ , he adds soberly. But still...

"Let's write him a message. Get into contact."

"Why would he want to establish contact with us?" Asimov says darkly. "We're Starfleet. We're the enemy."

"I'm doing this for Dael, and you'll help me."

Asimov gives him a dubious look but then opens an editor to create a message to T'Anihl ch'Retrrln with him.

*

Sex with Alain flows surprisingly easy ninety percent of the time, like on this long weekend in a cabin in the woods (and Pike tries not to think about how much he yearns to have such a weekend with the doc). The other ten shows up when Alain suggests tying him up for sex, and Pike declines rather harshly.

"Still averse to it?" Alain asks afterwards. "Would've thought that after thirteen years, you'd be over it."

"Thirteen? The Narada incident was only seven years ago." _Only_ — it's actually a long time when hearing the number.

Alain looks at him thoughtfully. "Back then, you said you're weren't in favor of it because of some bad experiences on a mission. You never delivered details but it seemed to have been rather horrific."

Pike needs a moment to remember — then is totally flabbergasted that he could ever forget. The mission on Celestis had been one of the worst of his career, right from the get go. It was one of the few he made undercover: the orders came basically right down from Intelligence, and he ended in the captivity of a terrorist splinter group that tried to get information from him, mostly by the means of severe beatings… and needles, which was some cultural thing. His own people barely recognized him when they located him after four days, and it took weeks before he made it back into the captain's chair for full duty.

Funny — he'd always thought he'd bounced back well considering how bad it had been. He hadn't lost a limb and had scratched along a kidney rebuild, then made it through with the minimum number of shrink sessions and got a clean bill of psychological health faster than anyone thought, including his CMO. Looking back today, though, this failed mission had probably been part of the reason why he even considered staying on Earth and doing recruitment after the end of that tour three months later. It damn looks as if Celestis had left a chink in his armor that hadn't been properly mended. In fact, he hadn't even been quite so critical of Intelligence before that, having aligned himself with Farnham's career choice rather easily in the past.

Maybe he should go and read his old mission reports once in a while, he'd probably find interesting things in there, Pike thinks sourly, and curls one hand in thought. The memories of the torture are so vague that he can't even summon the pain anymore, like of those pins under his fingernails, but the effects on his life are still real.

"Chris?" Alain asks, bringing him back to reality.

"Just thinking," Pike replies. "You're right, that was probably the start of it." Saying it, he realizes exactly why the _Narada_ had been different, aside from losing his command — he hadn't given in through four days of agony on Celestis, but he had poured out every damn 'fleet code he knew over a little pain and a slug on his brainstem. A part of him just never forgave his body for being so weak in the most important moment of his life.

"You ever try to shovel the shit out again?"

Pike shrugs. "Lately, yes. Getting better." Baby steps with the doc, the man that _owns_ him, kind of — if the doc wanted to, but Pike hadn't received an answer yet thanks to the annoying radio silence. It's a far cry from the way he lived sexuality in the far-away past, where other ghostly memories reside in which he could really enjoy tight bondage and the feeling of giving up control. Even with Leonard, it's more of a challenge than joy, some ego-against-ego battle.

Or maybe he glorifies the past a little by now; maybe he'd just grown out of that leaning over time. It's not particularly rare; other men had told him the same.

"I might have something for you," Alain says, pulling him out of his thoughts once more.

"Hmm?"

"Not telling yet. Just trust me." Alain runs one warm hand down Pike's chest, soothingly stroking him.

"I do." Which is both the truth and crazy, and Pike knows he really shouldn't do this, invest any emotions in a man who'd left him once and might do it again. But he can't help his feelings and he's in too deep. He'd like to blame his absent lovers but it's his own fucking problem that he now always chooses people with their own careers out in space.

Alain's hand runs deeper down, cupping his package. It's just a reflex that Pike spreads his legs a little, he's actually rather done. Or so he'd thought before he feels his length hardening, and he groans.

This thing with Alain might fuck up his life but the sex just remains fabulous.

*

When he's back in his office Monday morning, there's a message from his men on the console which hadn't been forwarded properly to his PADD due to some wonky headers.

 _Out of radio silence — how about a real time transmission? Sunday your time, 2200. Drop us a note if you can't make it.  
_  
It's the first time this method of date arrangement fails, and he's a bit at a loss what to reply. He can imagine them sitting and waiting for the connection, and it must've hurt them.

It takes him half an hour to compose a reply, and it's apologetic and convoluted and he deletes it for a short, truthful answer.

 _Got your message too late, sorry for that. How about Thursday night my time? Please send the reply directly to my PADD.  
_  
They agree on Thursday, but Pike has to cancel it because of a meeting that runs far too long, and then it's the weekend and he's busy with Alain, so he offers the next time on Monday evening. They've got to cancel on him because of time constraints, and their real time chat is shifted around for another week, something completely unusual.

It's no wonder that when McCoy gets ahold of him at last, with Kirk having had to cancel once again, the doc is concerned, having been able to read too much simply from the way their usual pattern has been disrupted.

"We're out of communication for some weeks and suddenly things seem to have changed between us? What's happening on Earth, Chris? Please, tell me," the doc says without introduction, his gaze intense and demanding.

 _I missed you so much_ , Pike wants to say. _Seeing you again makes me happier than I can put into words_. But the doc's words have an accusatory ring that reminds him of John, raising his defenses in addition to the lingering guilt he's already nurturing about Alain. "Nothing really changed. I only met an old lover of mine."

"That's all?"

"He was in need of lodging and I helped him out." Pike pauses. "We also reconnected, kind of."

"Does the guy have a name?"

"It's Alain. The man I'd been living with for a while." Pike had never told them much about his ex, aside from the basics, but he's not surprised when McCoy remembers those.

"The guy who dumped you and turned you into an embittered hermit for years?" McCoy asks, his brows drawing together.

"The same."

Pike can see McCoy battling, his mouth opening and closing until in the end, all that comes out is a single question. "Something serious?"

"Maybe."

"Where is he staying?"

"With me right now. He needed a place to live."

"That serious, uh?" McCoy's face is rather frozen. "What about Dael?"

"As I said, it's only temporary." Pike repeats. "I felt so disconnected from you all. It's as if I've got two lives running, with no real connection between them. I'm glad we could chat again." _Missed you, missed you_ , the mantra runs in the back of his head but he can't bring himself to say it because it would sound as if he wants to gloss over their tension and evade the discussion.

"The connection will get very real when she comes back," McCoy says darkly. "You fell out of love with her?"

"No. But sometimes it's so complicated… with Alain, it's all easy."

"I never saw your relationship with Dael as that complicated," McCoy says and it surprises and also annoys Pike, because the doc's criticism of her had been a large part of the _complicated_ for quite some time.

"A young, female cadet, remember?"

"Well on her way to become an officer," McCoy says. "Or is that part of the _complicated_ , that she's making her own decisions by now?"

Pike feels his shoulders tensing, wishing the discussion to be over. "Maybe I'm just not good at handling too many relationships."

"Great. And we're those _too many_?"

"Damn, Leonard — give me a little time," Pike says sharply. This is all wrong, they shouldn't fight but speak about something else, like the recordings they'd exchanged before the radio silence, the ones in which Pike had bared his soul and had not yet received an answer to. But instead, they're just making things worse here. "It's happening all so fast. The thing with Alain— he was very special to me, he's got the potential to become special again. But I'm not going to make any rushed decisions, one way or the other, and I hope you don't either. Or do you want to get rid of me?"

McCoy takes a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh. "No, of course not. Sorry for giving you the third degree. In any case, we'd like to get in touch again, if that's all right by you."

"Of course." Pike reaches out to the cam. "I meant it when I said I feel disconnected from you all. I _need_ to hear from you."

"Good. You will. Take care, talk to you soon."

"You too."

McCoy signs out, and only after the line closes Pike realizes that they both didn't say the words they've said for a longest time, the " _I love you_ ".

It stings sharp and painful.

*

It's five hours later when the next incoming call from the _Enterprise_ is announced.

"Jim." When Pike sees the captain's serious face, he braces himself for the onslaught of criticism.

"Hey Chris, wonderful lover," Kirk starts lightly, as if nothing had happened in the meantime. "It's really been too long since our last talk."

"Very true," Pike says moved, and after this invitation, it's so easy to say what he feels. "I missed you both terribly. Really, really badly."

"We missed you too. Prolonged radio silence is one of the suckiest ordeals in the universe." Kirk pauses for a moment. "Got a briefing from Bones, so I thought I'd call as soon as possible." His mouth curves into a smile. "Hitting the pinnacles of poly relationships, are you?"

"Damn, yes," Pike says, exhaling. "I'm glad you didn't call to read me the riot act."

"I wouldn't do that — unless I thought you needed it." The smile turns into a smirk.

"Thanks," Pike says a little ironically.

"Seriously — I mostly called to say _take it easy_. There's no need to get worked up over the idea you've got to make a decision when nobody pushes for one."

"Someone will, at some point."

Kirk shakes his head. "No, Chris. That's only in your head. Remember, the four of us were on Earth together for ten days and nobody pushed for a decision. Maybe _you_ would want to make some decision because you'd feel better with having some clear-cut solution, black and white, but it doesn't have to be that way."

Pike squeezes his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Guess you're right," he says at last, looking up at Kirk again. "I feel like I'm hanging in the air. I feel like I'm not in control of the situation, and it's driving me a little crazy. Here's Earth and the sudden revival of something I thought long gone, and there's outer space with Dael completely out of reach and you… It shouldn't feel like a sudden disconnect but it has felt like that over the last weeks."

"I know. Bones and I had the same problem but to a lesser degree, because we always have each other. You, on the other hand…"

"Yeah. Guess I did something wrong, having three lovers and still ending up with nobody around." Pike brushes one hand over his bottom lip. "I thought I got all I wanted. Guess I'm not very good at knowing what I want."

"You don't want to be alone," Kirk says. "Nothing wrong with that."

"I didn't look for anybody. I just happened to run into him."

"Shit happens," Kirk says but the grin tells Pike it's meant as a teasing joke. "So, would we like him?"

"Hope so. He's very unlike John."

"Except for the good-looking part?"

Pike laughs a little self-consciously. "I'm that vain, aren't I? I've had other lovers too, that didn't look like models. I like to think my choices are about people, not looks."

"Mostly they seem to be but it sure doesn't hurt when the guy is broad-shouldered and in shape." Kirk smiles. "I can relate."

Pike nods, turning serious again. "I miss you so much, both of you. I wish…"

"My offer to Bones still stands, about resigning from command," Kirk says. "Actually, I've put farms for sale in your area on notification." Now it's Kirk who smiles self-consciously. "We all have our dreams."

It painfully reminds Pike that even though Kirk might handle the current tension with outward ease, deep down they all have their insecurities, and what Pike does or doesn't do will have an effect on all his lovers. "That's a brilliant idea," he says seriously. "I'll keep my eyes open too. And if you find something, drop me a note. Even if I can't get to it right away, I'm sure Tom would be delighted to help."

"Sure." Kirk reaches out with one open palm. "I've got to get to work, got a ship to run, you know. As I said, take it easy, no need to get worked up over _maybes_. I love you — we love you, and we want to see you happy."

"I know, Jim." Pike replies. "Trust me, I want to see all of us happy too." It's just that he doesn't do a good job at it right now and it makes him feel guilty.

The _Enterprise_ signs off, and Pike sinks back with a sigh.

*

Nogura calls him to his office a day later for the first time in weeks, and from the serious face of the old man, Pike can deduce that whatever subject he'd been invited to discuss, it won't be funny. At least it turns out to have nothing to do with any of Pike's sexual deviances and presumed failures, but with the 'fleet.

"Six ships have filed a complaint against Shaa," Nogura says, offering Pike a PADD once he's seated. Pike thumbs through the complaint that obviously concerns a larger, top-secret mission near the Klingon border.

"So it's about the enforced radio silence and several orders that are judged to be strategic mistakes," he concludes after reading the rather sharply worded statement that is signed by six captains and their XOs. Kirk's name isn't among them, which surprises Pike, considering that the _Enterprise_ is mentioned several times and had obviously been one of the reasons why a large, complex mission gone wrong hadn't had more impact — more _deaths_ in skirmishes with Klingons.

He wonders whether Kirk's apparent loyalty is the reason that Nogura wants to discuss this complaint with him.

"Shaa is filled with indignation, of course," Nogura says. "Such a reaction from captains is without precedence."

"Which makes it all the more important to address their concerns properly," Pike states.

Nogura waves his hand. "In the Andorian fleet, such a behavior from captains would be unthinkable."

Pike shrugs. "Then she better learns that Starfleet doesn't work like the Andorian fleet."

"She thinks that because certain captains didn't sign, she doesn't need to address the complaint," Nogura says. "Of course, this won't go down well with the admiralty but we cannot allow a few captains to rule the fleet."

" _Excuse me_?" Pike says, the PADD half slipping out of his hands in surprise. "Those few captains are some of the best commanders we have out there, and if they went as far as making an official complaint, many serious concerns must have been ignored by Ships Operations before that. You cannot simply disregard them now."

"So far, this complaint is confidential and hasn't left a small circle of people. There's no need to address it right away."

While Pike has had his problems with Nogura over the last months, he can't quite believe his ears now. "You'd sweep it under the rug? That's unbelievable. Heihachiro —"

"I haven't yet made a decision, but I ask you to keep quiet about this," the old man interrupts him. "Dismissed."

*

The call to the _Enterprise_ takes time to establish, but Pike patiently waits through all the relays and delays until Kirk appears on the screen.

"Nogura showed me the complaint filed by some of our captains," Pike says.

Kirk smiles tiredly, his uniform jacket half open; he looks as if he'd been on his way to bed. McCoy is nowhere to be seen. "I guessed as much when you wanted to speak to me so urgently."

"Why didn't you sign it?"

The captain presses his lips together.

"Why, Jim?"

Kirk looks away for a moment, pondering the answer — then he turns towards the screen, shocking Pike by saying, "I know that your working relationship with Esteban and Nogura is very problematic now."

Pike needs a moment to find a good answer. "I never said anything like that," he says lamely, realizing that it's basically a confirmation the second the words are out.

"If it were easy, you'd have mentioned them once in a while. You never do, just as you stopped speaking about your task force even before Dael's departure. Besides, you're not my only HQ contact." Kirk leans forward, lacing his hands on the table. "I thought about signing that complaint but I knew it would make your situation even worse, so I didn't."

"You don't have to protect me," Pike states. "Not like that. I don't want our relationship to have an impact on your decisions as captain. As an officer. I don't want that, Jim."

"This isn't just about you, but about us all," Kirk replies, briefly avoiding Pike's gaze.

"You let Leonard influence your decisions?" Pike asks sharply.

"I like to have good sex once in a while," Kirk tries to joke, but it falls completely flat. "Chris — he's concerned about you, I am concerned about you. That wasn't the only reason not to sign, but it's one of the more important ones. Shaa's a pain in the ass but so are most admirals. She'll learn."

"You're going to sign this complaint, or we're done with each other," Pike says.

"You're kidding," Kirk says rigidly, his usually expressive face turning into a mask.

"I mean it. My position on Earth is my own responsibility, and I won't let my partners maneuver themselves into a position where they feel they need to compromise to save me."

Kirk's eyes widen. "It's too late to sign."

"You'll sign it, Jim, because this complaint is right and important and you're never going to draw away from a necessary decision because you or anyone else thinks I need to be protected. Never — ever — again."

Pike signs off and leaves the office, wandering through the city until the dawn breaks and the cool night air drives him home where Alain is waiting for him, offering a shoulder to lean on without questions.

*

On the next morning, Nogura stalks into his office.

"Kirk and Spock just signed the complaint. Do you know anything about this?" the old man asks sharply.

Pike wordlessly looks at him.

"I see," Nogura says. "I'd never have thought you'd stab me in the back like that, even though Shaa has warned me that you've become unreliable. After everything I did for you…" He turns and leaves.

"I wouldn't have thought that about you either," Pike mutters and eyes the orders coming down from Nogura's office, McAllister specifically, with yet another testing schedule changed from that he'd originally signed.

_Guess that means war._

A pity Pike would probably be the one on the losing side.

*

The memories of Celestis had pushed something out of his subconscious for which Pike wants a definite answer in the light of their by now rather unrealistic but still existing farm dream, so next time he visits Naaz for a check-up, he asks her in their pre-talk, "If I wanted to have my sperm quality checked, could we do this here too?"

She's surprised but nods. "It's not standard here but we'd be able to use the lab down in the first floor for that check. We'd need a sample for that, though — the old-fashioned method still works best."

"Fine." Pike gets a cup and saunters off to the restroom, having a hard time coming up with anything arousing enough until he settles on fantasies of the doc standing next to him and forcing him to deliver the sample.

After all his other checks, which are much less physical and mostly consist of lying under some scanners, he returns to Naaz for the closure. She looks at him with a strange gaze but gives him the expected normal results of the brain scans first before bringing up the question that really moves him today.

"Regarding your sperm sample —" She pauses for a moment.

"Go ahead," he says. "I can take any result."

That's obviously the statement she needs to hear. "The count is below a million, and mobility is mostly grade 1. By medical standards, you are sterile. Chances for a naturally happening pregnancy are practically nil."

"I see," is all he says.

"You knew that already, didn't you?" Naaz asks, searching his face.

Pike folds his hands. "Thirteen years ago, I had a bad infection." She's looking at him, waiting for an elaboration, and he can't resist. "Got a few dozens needles driven into my balls. Some broke during a subsequent beating and had to be removed surgically. My CMO warned me about potential sterility due to the infection and the severely scarred tissue."

She turns pale and swallows. "Oh. Some sex game gone wrong?"

"No, real torture gone right," Pike says, instantly feeling sorry for having pushed it at her like this. "It's in my medical history," he says apologizing.

"I never read anything beyond what I needed, which was mostly data after the Narada."

"I'm sorry." What a difference from McCoy, Pike thinks, who believes in knowing everything about a patient that there is to know.

"I'm sorry too." Naaz purses her lips. "Are you thinking of having children? There would be methods —"

"No, I'm not." Not biological ones, anyway.

"Okay. So — see you in a month?"

Pike leaves SFM with a strange feeling. Even though he'd never tied virility to sperm production, the result _does_ make him feel a little defective, and out of the blue, he's having a hard time restraining himself from cupping his balls as they hurt in sudden phantom pain.

At least he knows for sure now.

*

Sometimes when he comes home unexpectedly, he catches Alain sitting somewhere with a rather solemn, almost sad expression. His friend always quickly calls up a smile but the California dream man image has too many fissures and cracks by now to get covered by that.

"If you want to see your boys, we could surely arrange something," Pike says.

Alain rubs his tired eyes. "It's not a good time for that."

"Does your wife even know where you are?"

"No, I only managed to send her a note from a public terminal back then that I'm away and will call in a while."

Pike shakes his head. "She's probably mad with fear by now. Let's give her a proper call — we can use some obscure, protected 'fleet channels."

"Don't, Chris," Alain says stiffly, visibly not inclined to continue this discussion.

"Okay," Pike says and leaves it at that.

 _It's not as if he can force anyone to talk.  
_  
This slogan is probably the story of his life by now. Although the _Enterprise_ is within real time communication range, the men don't seem to be on speaking terms with him at the moment, and Pike can't blame them, feeling much the same. He'd never been as angry with them as when learning about Kirk's misguided decision to protect him by not signing that complaint, and it's driven a rift between him and the couple.

He loves Leonard but it's mostly a source of pain for them during times of separation, which would remain long and frequent. It has repercussions on them all, which is dangerous and impossible to work with on the bridge of a starship. Pike would keep at more of a distance for as long as they're out in space — it would hurt, but it would hurt less than seeing the two making bad decisions because of him.

In weak moments, Pike still surfs the farm offers, dreaming about what they could have together, but he can't help thinking of a sentence he once read on a postcard:

 _"We hold on all the stronger to the piles that we feel crumbling beneath us."  
_  
*

Cho is on earth and shows up with only a brief warning at the door of his office, eyeing his assistant with more than little surprise.

"Still didn't find a better one?" Cho asks as she drags him to an early lunch in one of the admiralty's smaller mess halls.

"Stopped looking," Pike says. They quickly get their food, and he follows her to a corner table at the very end of the room.

"What the hell is going on here?" she raves as they're both seated, having a hard time to control her volume. "This is far beyond the usual bullshit. Don't think I'm so stupid I don't get it."

"So what do you think is going on here?" Pike asks as he cuts his piece of meat.

"It's a campaign to get you out of your position," Cho states. "An organized mobbing." She looks at him, waiting for his answer.

"Yes," Pike says. What irony that the same thing he could end for Dael is now happening to him.

"Yes?" she blurts out, shaking her head. "That's all you've got to say about it?"

"Yes."

"You're just going to let them win? Who's behind it anyway?"

"I guess Shaa," Pike says. "Probably she'd love to have someone of her own tribe in my position. Nogura is on her side already, willing to make decisions that go against everything that should be sacred to the fleet."

"And you are going to let her win?"

Pike puts his cutlery aside. "I made too many mistakes. Ruined my reputation with my relationships. Ruined my working relationship with my bull-headedness about the Borg. Ruined my health with my lifestyle. Made a lot of small strategic mistakes that all sum up to — I don't know how to solve the situation. I can't solve it."

"Then who could?"

"Nogura, possibly, but he's got me on his own personal blacklist by now." The statement should hurt — that it doesn't only shows Pike how far he's come in his inner separation from this institution. "I'm not yet ready to resign," he says to stop another of Cho's angry rants. "But I'm not going to hold my position forever either."

"If I talked to Nogura —" Cho offers.

Pike shakes his head. "I doubt that this would help much. It might possibly only endanger your own position."

"Dammit, Chris — you've been a fighter all your life. A really tough guy," Cho says a little desperate. "You can't just let a bullying campaign by an Andorian asshole get the better of you."

"Maybe it's just a sign that my career has run its course," Pike says. "You know, there's some nice farmland to buy out there. I could start to ride again. I really miss the desert."

Cho sighs annoyed. "Do your men know what's going on here? Did you even tell them?"

"We're not exactly on speaking terms right now. It's complicated."

She frowns at him. "I don't get it. You've commanded so many ships, always had a great hand when picking your bridge teams. Why can't you do the same on Earth?"

"It's not just working like that here," Pike says, picking up his cutlery to proceed eating. The truth is that once he'd allowed his relationships to become an important part of his life, they'd also become the major source of trouble, slipping out of his control worse than anything else. He really feels like he's in a deadlock by now, not knowing which move might be right, or even possible.

When they leave the mess, he wants to part from her but she drags him down to her office. "There's someone I want you to meet," she says and smiles at the woman who gets up from the visitor's chair.

"That's my partner, Renata Ochi," Cho introduces her. "And this is Christopher Pike, an old friend of mine."

Pike looks at the woman who'd once had a short but intense affair with the doc. She's at least two heads shorter than he, with brown eyes, long dark hair, full breasts and rather round curves, clad in an elegant dress. Somehow he hadn't realized that when McCoy speaks about _fine ladies_ , he really means it. Obviously, the doc likes his women very feminine and his men rather manly, while Pike — if he could judge from a sample of two biological women — prefers everyone looking male.

"Happy to meet you," Ochi says, her curious gaze sweeping up and down his figure in a similar fashion. "Leo didn't lie when he bragged about you." She smiles.

"You've got an advantage over me, he didn't tell me a lot about you," Pike states smoothly. Or if the doc had done it, he'd forgotten the details and had no intention of hunting down that recording.

Ochi's smile deepens. "Doesn't surprise me. He was quite head over heels about you, while I was only a temporary distraction."

"Is that so?"

"Talked more about you than Jim Kirk. I almost expected to hear of their separation one day, but I'm glad that obviously didn't happen."

Pike swallows. The affair between Ochi and McCoy had taken place after the very first time the three of them had come together. To learn that Leonard had been in so deep already then… he shakes it off. They're fine as they are now, with a good measure of distance between them, both of them having made the decision to keep away from dangerous games.

Suddenly feeling an overwhelming need to get away from the couple, he states, "I've got a meeting. Please excuse me." He leaves them, feeling their slightly confused gazes on his back.

*

For a few days, he's able to return to a state of equanimity, even though the working climate at the admiralty has gone down to glacial levels. His health isn't the best either. Once again he has random memory lapses but while most task force members try to ignore the problem, Esteban uses every chance to bring it into the spotlight, determined to get him out of his position one way or the other.

One afternoon he comes home with a curse on his lips, throwing his precious PADD around in a burst of anger he usually doesn't have the energy for. Passing a rather shocked Alain who's waiting in the kitchen, he stalks out onto the terrace, inhaling the cool air in the attempt to get his terrible mood under control.

Quiet steps draw close as Alain joins him.

"They're driving me crazy," Pike says. "And that's their plan. I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to live with the pressure." Esteban is one thing; having Nogura also in open opposition is definitely tipping the scale against him.

"What would be your alternatives? Another job?"

"Back then, I thought about resigning from Starfleet — to stay with you."

"I remember," Alain says.

"Went as far as applying for jobs in the private sector, even had two interviews." Pike looks into the dark, arms tightly laced.

"And a pretty backhanded reply you got from me, didn't you?" Alain says, putting his hands on Pike's shoulders to massage him gently. "I would never have asked for your resignation. I knew Starfleet is basically your life."

"Maybe it's time for a life outside of Starfleet," Pike says, although he can't picture it yet. Sitting alone on a farm waiting for the people he loved… no thanks. And what else could he do with his health that could break down any second if something went wrong?

"You wouldn't know what to do with yourself," Alain speaks aloud what Pike thinks.

"Maybe I'd just need someone to teach me that," Pike mutters, not sure who he's actually speaking about. He can't imagine spending his life with Alain — or could he? As long as he's asking himself that question, Alain is the wrong guy.

But he has the same misgivings about Dael. Even the doc — Lord knows whether they'd really be right for each other in a day-to-day life, with petty everyday problems like hairs in the shower and work routines in conflict. And right now, with the distance and some hurt feelings between them, they're not right for each other at all.

"Maybe I just need to spread my own wings a little," Pike says, looking down to the street.

"Huh?" Alain says, his grip on Pike's shoulders tightening.

"No, not like that," Pike appeases him, looking around to meet his once-ex-now-again lover's eyes. "Just… I don't know, think outside the box some more. There's got to be more to life than what I have right now."

"There is, Chris. So much more." _If you just saw it_ , swings in Alain's words.

Pike knows his friend is right — but he doesn't have the energy right now to reach out for it. Not on his own, at least, and so he only leans back wordlessly.

Alain takes this as the end of discussion and pulls him inside for a full body massage, caressing his brooding thoughts away for the night.

*

Asimov and he still surf the boards over lunch two times a week, waiting for an answer from T'Anihl, reading through forum entries, and discussing Romulan politics although that species becomes less important to Pike with every day that the smoldering conflict with the Klingons lasts and the _Pathfinder_ launch draws closer. At least it means taking a break from the stressful atmosphere of other meetings, the endless criticism from Nogura who seems to find something wrong in every report lately. If he'd thought he'd been on Nogura's bad side before, now he learns what that really feels like.

"If you really cared for your career," Pike says at one time, "you would stop working with me."

Asimov looks startled for a moment, then squarely faces him. "If I cared for my career, maybe I'd listen to friendly suggestions from certain people. But frankly, I don't. I've been on probation for a while; if Starfleet thinks it doesn't need my knowledge, I'll always be able to find something outside the organization."

"Yes, I guess you would."

"As you would, sir," Asimov says seriously.

"I will consider my options in time," Pike says, wondering if anyone listened to the cam's recording, not putting it beyond Nogura to have him under surveillance by now. Between the accusations of betraying fleet secrets and abusing his rank for sexual services, he's also the partner of a captain who, after signing a first complaint, added a second, even sharper one with a detailed analysis by Spock on the tactical errors in the HQ orders. It's too well-done to get swept under the rug — and that wouldn't have been possible anyway as Kirk had been intelligent enough to send it to all admirals and captains. It's causing quite an earthquake within Starfleet at the moment.

Pike smiles at the thought. He'd congratulated Kirk on the complaint and its effects, and while the reply had been brief, it had been signed with _Love, Jim_. Things are still strained, but there's hope they'll get back to the relationship they had during their vacation — one day, when they're together again. The doc had sent nothing but a picture that had been taken on Earth, a _Chris &Leonard_ shot which is both heart-warming and frustrating, and Pike had saved it away with every intention not to look at it for a while.

"Let's return to that complicated poem from last week," Pike says, pulling himself out of his thoughts to address Asimov. "Even though I've got all the words by now, their symbolism goes right over my head…"

He never asks about that morbid "sacrifice of birds" poem Dael had brought up back then.

*

Farnham bribes him with lunch in a new, but already famous restaurant, and Pike enjoys a great meal over which they don't speak about Alain at all and Dael only a little. Instead, Farnham speaks about Eric and their vague plans of moving in together.

"Oh, by the way —" Farnham says when they're out on the street. "Maybe you shouldn't surf that board quite so often."

Pike feels like he’s been punched in the guts, stopping mid-step.

"You know which one I mean," Farnham says lightly. "It's not quite the place a respectable Starfleet member should hang around… and neither should a lieutenant that's on probation."

Pike shakes his head. "So you're back on spying on my activities?" he says flatly.

"I'm not," Farnham says. "Only got a call from a friend of a friend…"

"You know I surf it because of Dael?"

"I guessed as much. That still doesn't mean you should get overly affiliated with that board."

"Or…?" Pike says dangerously quiet.

"Damn, Chris," Farnham says exasperated. "I only wanted to warn you — it's not about me, but you. I want you to stay in your job."

"You're the only one lately." Pike straightens his shoulders. "What the fuck." He turns and walks away, glad that Farnham gives up after one half-hearted call.

 _What the fuck.  
_  
*

"I got promoted," Cho says when they've established the line on this beautiful sunny morning, golden rays dancing over the walls of Pike's office. "As of next month, I'm in charge of half of the terminals of Utopia Planitia."

"Congratulations," Pike says. "I always knew you'd have a great career. I can't wait for the day when all of UP is yours."

"Should happen within the next five years," Cho says with a grin, but he knows she's serious.

"Who'll be in charge of terminal 14 and the refit project then?" he asks.

"Commander Rosen." Cho nods in commiseration as Pike can't resist drawing a face. In the various meetings where Rosen had participated, she'd tended to speak in favor of Esteban's preferences, and having her in charge now would weaken Pike's influence on the team's decisions further. "I tried to keep them from promoting her, but she was the logical choice. I'm sorry."

"I'm sure she earned her promotion," he says controlled. "She's good at what she's doing." Including the moments when she wins in discussions against Pike.

"I'm going to miss our chats," Cho says.

"You could still call me once in a while," Pike replies, but they both know that with their tight schedules, keeping in contact outside of joint projects would be unlikely.

Cho smiles. "You know where to find me too. I'm sure your project will keep UP busy in the future."

When she signs off, he reclines in his chair, curling his hands in his lap. _Another brick in the wall_ , the lyrics comes up unasked. Or maybe more of another plank being pulled out from beneath his feet. Ironic that now that his legs had stopped giving in, his position is the more fragile, unstable thing.

He gets up and walks to the restroom, bathing his face in cool water.

"Are you feeling well, sir?" someone says and he turns to find McAllister, one of Nogura's deputies.

"Of course," Pike says instantly. He hadn't forgotten the strange meeting with this man, and wouldn't want to give him another opening for criticism.

"I only ask because you look so pale." McAllister lets a beat pass. "Must be hard to know that without modern medicine, one would be dead already."

There isn't a single day on which Pike doesn't reflect on the sad truth that without his carefully leveled medication, he'd neither be able to get out of bed nor work on a regular base, but that's not McAllister's business.

"Isn't that what's modern medicine supposed to be for?" Pike says coolly.

"Of course. But all the long meetings, all the long workdays… I'm surprised how well you deal with it. Usually, Medical is quick to order people on leave, and few of those with brain injuries return to full duty as you did."

Pike dries his face with a paper towel. "Chalk it up to my being an old, stubborn SOB."

"I do," McAllister says with a strange smile. "Good day, sir."

Pike goes home very late that night.

*

The SOB attitude is good and fair, but unfortunately his body isn't up to that anymore, no matter how much Pike would love to ignore that. And so it doesn't take long before his body complains in a very specific and agonizing way, landing him painfully on his knees in the middle of the kitchen. At least he doesn't have anything in his hands when it happens.

"What was that?" Alain asks him wide-eyed as he helps him up from the floor.

"Just my brain acting up," Pike says, shakily sitting down on the second-best chair and burying his face in both hands. "It was going so well. Shit." He's close to tears, a suffocating lump stuck in his throat. "I can't believe this is happening again."

Alain wordlessly holds him until the trembling subsides, and Pike doesn't know whether he really wants that or not. It couldn't just be that he's unable to function without someone holding his hand, be it Dael or Alain. He was stronger than that. He hates his weakness, and that he's tired and frustrated enough to think about giving up. He has to persist. He just has to.

They eat and go to bed. For a while, Pike is still in his gloomy mood, but in the end he's able to admit to himself that he's grateful to curl up against his lover, enjoying the gentle, calming caresses.

"Maybe it really would be best to do something else," Alain says quietly. "Resign and move to the countryside, buy a farm as you dream about. You don't need to work. You could have a good life."

Pike doesn't answer.

"I've talked to the specialist on organized crime you connected me with. I'll be able to make a deal, but I'll have to vanish for a few months. We could run off for a while." It's the first time Alain makes any allusion to a possible future together.

"I can't." Pike pulls away. He'd made a promise to Dael, and he intends to keep it, even if he might be a fool for waiting.

"Okay," Alain replies.

*

"How do you feel?" Naaz asks him two weeks later when he sees her for his regular check-up.

"Fine," he says. His brain scans look good, he's an expert on them by now.

She doesn't look at the images at all though, only at his face. "You look pale. Did you have any neural lapses? Your knees give in?"

"No," he lies.

"I had a look at the data from the sensor bracelet. You didn't sleep a lot lately."

"I've got a lot of work… and a sex life."

She smiles at him. "Oh, is Dael back?"

"Not yet, but soon," he says, avoiding a straight answer.

"I see, someone else joining the club." Naaz takes the news in a stride. "Well, then I'll let you return to your busy life. Take care, Chris, and see you in a month."

"Yes, thanks," he says and leaves her, putting on his knee protectors in the restroom before leaving the building. Given that he'd taken another two falls already, it's just too risky to go without.

*

Esteban once again signs a new feature for implementation and testing that Pike had been sure they'd agreed to keep out of the next round, obviously no longer feeling the need to pass it by Nogura's office. Pike lets it slip; it doesn't really make much difference, as one of Nogura's assistants would surely sign it anyway.

In a sharply worded message, internal controlling complains about his overuse of 'fleet communication channels, although he hadn't even called the _Enterprise_ lately.

On the next morning, the coffeemaker on his floor breaks and the technician that gets generously tipped by Pike to adjust the settings to his personal preferences is on vacation. Consequently, the espresso is reminiscent of colored water for god knows how many days.

Pike wonders if anyone has hexed him.

*

"Chris, would you have a minute?" On Friday afternoon, the face of Captain Illyon of the _Endeavour_ surprisingly fills his screen. He hadn't heard from his old academy friend since his failed attempt to get Dael assigned to her ship, and he stares in concern at the strangely decorative bruise on her forehead.

"Mori — I thought you were still on your explorative mission and out of direct communication range. What happened?"

"We have new orders, moved into another sector. Had a little run-in with the Romulans too." She coughs, and it sounds painful. "A _certain someone_ is a little out of her mind in the HQ, and I think I'll give Kirk a call later. But first, I need your help. We're in dire need of a specialist for Romulan affairs. I heard you had one working for you but he's not really to be trusted…?"

Pike shakes his head. "I don't know who's been your informer but Nicolai Asimov is a fine officer. He's taken up the rather unsatisfying assignment of brushing up my Romulan, and he does a great job at it. If you're in need of someone who doesn't just speak Romulan but also knows what makes them tick, absolutely go for him." He hesitates for a moment. "Of course, that's only my opinion. I guess if you asked the Head of Linguistics, you might get some more official information."

"If you vouch for him, that's enough for me," Illyon says without hesitation.

She's quite in the minority with that opinion by now, and it makes Pike nostalgic.

"I'm going to contact him tomorrow for a transfer request. Today, I'm a little busy." She rubs her face with one bandaged hand.

"Your little run-in — how bad?" Pike asks.

She smiles crookedly. "Nine dead, main power grid fused to modern art. It's been a damn shit. Thanks a lot, Chris, I'm in your debt."

"Even double by now." He smirks, then sobers. "Mori — take care, please. I really don't want to attend your memorial service."

"I know. Though I remember that you look fabulous in black. Better than in white." She waves and signs off, leaving him wondering whether she is trying to tell him something here.

In any case — it's a relief to know that Asimov will be off-planet soon, heading out with a good captain and crew.

*

The one redeeming thing in his life at the moment is Alain, and Pike is determined to make the best of their time together. They beam to his club on Friday night again, after a nice dinner at home with a tad of white wine, just enough to keep Pike's med app quiet. It's a great evening, and Pike is relaxed and touchy-feely, by his standards. They hang out at the bar for some time, where one of the guests tells an incredible story about a one-night-stand with a Tellarite, his almost theatrical performance cracking up everyone in his audience.

Pike laughs too, then slings one arm around Alain's hip before leaning over for a kiss, ready to move on with the evening program and whispering as much into his lover's ear. But when he pulls back, he freezes as he looks right into Esteban's eyes. He unlaces from Alain and straightens up.

"Sir," the captain says stiffly.

"What are you doing here?" Pike asks.

"A friend of mine wanted something special for his bachelor party," Esteban says with the expression of a man who'd been forced here at gunpoint. "You're here to meet friends…?" His gaze drifts over Alain.

Maybe that would be the moment for a good lie, but that's not Pike's style. "I own this club," he says. Esteban's eyes widen, the man's mouth curling in disgust. "Explains a lot," Esteban says, and that's the point when Pike has enough.

"A word with you, Captain," Pike states icily, giving Alain an apologizing nudge on the shoulder before walking aside with Esteban.

"This won't do," he says as they're face to face in the half-shadows. "It's obvious that we're unable to return to a functioning professional relationship." He doesn't say _you are_ , it wouldn't help a thing. This isn't just about Esteban but also about Nogura's and Shaa's behavior as of late and the whole damn fucked-up situation he's in, partly due to his own faults, partly steered into by the currently dominant forces. He doesn't need to wait until Nogura finds a reason to dispose of him. He would become a privateer by his own decision. "We're done."

Esteban looks at him with a face suddenly drained of all color, probably expecting to get booted out of the _Pathfinder_ 's captaincy.

"On Monday, I'll tell Nogura I'll resign," Pike keeps going. "Chances are the task force will merge into Ship Operations anyway, so Shaa will take over."

Esteban shakes his head. "Sir — I didn't intend —"

Pike waves his hand, interrupting him. "If you didn't, then you're a clueless idiot and that's not befitting for a man who'll play an important role in the future of the Federation. My decision stands, and don't think this is just about you, Esteban. You're not that important to me."

Esteban's jaw clenches as the man tries to summon a good reply.

"And as you don't want to be here anyway, I'm asking you to leave now." Pike doesn't care that he might spoil somebody's party over it; he's had enough of the man and doesn't plan to have another bad night because of an asshole who can't tolerate other people's lifestyle. "Get out of here, _Captain_ ," he orders sharply as Esteban opens his mouth.

That finally does the trick. "Yes, sir," the man snaps and turns on his heel, taking a second to inform his friend before leaving alone.

Alain joins his side, cautiously touching his arm. "Trouble?"

"Not anymore," Pike says, taking in the enormous feeling of relief over finally having made a decision.

*

It's a wonderful Saturday morning, the sun is bright, the smell of coffee lingering in the air, and Pike feels light-headed and relaxed for the first time in months. The feeling of relief from the evening before is still full-fledged, and there's not one thought of taking his statement back. He's going to resign. It's not a hard decision, looking at the facts, and he can't quite fathom why it had taken him so long to reach it. It would end the daily agony, the conflict about Dael's status, the loyalty problems he might cause for his men. He takes a quick shower, gets his bathrobe, and looks out for his cohabitant.

Alain stands in the kitchen, greeting him with a kiss and a cup full of the hot, dark brew.

"You're looking good this morning," Alain says. "Happy."

"It was a great evening," Pike says. He's not going to speak about the resignation before it's done, which should be by Monday evening. It would be a nice surprise, hopefully — but this time he's not doing this for Alain, he's doing it for himself first, and for the people he loves second.

He quickly empties the cup and gives it to Alain for a refill.

"I don't think you need it," Alain says softly.

"Hmm?" Pike looks up at him. Something is strange, his world slightly wavering and shifting as if set to the wrong optical filters. He blinks, wondering whether something is wrong with his eyesight, but the world keeps changing.

"I'm sick of watching you fighting it, Chris. Never being the man you could be, only the man they want you to be. Tied up in your memories, the things that have been done to you. It's time someone does something about it."

"What did you do?" Pike says in disbelief as realization trickles into his mind like a liquid over the edge of a table.

"Just a little relaxant in your coffee," Alain says. "You'll be fine, more than fine. Just come with me." Pike is unable to resist when Alain walks around the table and pulls him up, directing him to the bedroom. His lover puts him into the chair at first, rummaging around on the bed. Pike's world is blurred and worse, he seems unable to parse what he sees through the unclear colors. Only when Alain removes his bathrobe and puts him down on the bed does he notice the medical restraints that wait for him. A sudden panic rises, but gets strangely stuck on the way, lingering beneath the surface like a swarm of fish under a cover of frozen ice.

"Why…?" Pike manages to whisper as Alain straps him down, his voice unreal in his own ears. It's _that_ position, _that_ kind of belt around his waist, and he freaks out, mute little fishes gaping against the layer of silence. His ankles and wrists are fixed and he's back _there_ and he's going crazy, starting to see it all again, the high ceilings of meandering metal, dark, wet and intimidating.

"I've read the report," Alain says and kneels over him, caressing his face through the layers of shadows that creep in. "I'm not doing this for him, I'm doing it for you. Believe me, Chris, please believe me. I never wanted to work for him but he blackmailed me. This is my way to apologize. I'm going to set you free." The hands are everywhere now, like soft winds above the ice, the sweetness of spring.

 _Him?_ A question drifts, inexpressible.

"Going to bring down these walls you've built. Going to make you feel again." Alain's lips are soft on his, and the fish's frantic little zig-zag turns to cycles, hypnotic and pacifying. Slowly his blurred world turns sweet and erotic, tinged in colors of the rainbow that break through the blue.

"Open your mouth, yes, let it flow…" Things run down his throat, slick and slimy and he laughs about the strangeness, the way everything suddenly floats, light and free. He's flying, nothing can hold him back, not the ties, not the blade that runs over his skin. He's free to go wherever he wants, can love whoever he wants. There are sparkles, more rainbows, piles upon piles of them like ribbons braided around him. Then all of him expands like one red giant, an exploding star of light brilliant and beautiful in its destruction.

*

He wakes up in a full bath tub without remembering how he'd gotten there, the water cool and a little dirtier than it should be. With shaky legs, he gets up and showers, then leaves the bathroom to find out where Alain is.

His lover lies on his stomach on the rather messy bed, and for a moment Pike wonders if he'd only dreamed it all, but then he sees the medical restraints piled on the floor.

Pike heavily sits down on the bed. "Why, Alain?"

His friend rolls onto his back, the gaze from green eyes slowly focusing on him.

"I did it for you," Alain says dreamily. "Wanted to help you break the cycle. Start living again."

"By drugging me and doing… whatever you did?" Pike says, staring down his chest where angry red lines signal a knife's paths.

"You just took it. Didn't panic at all. Tied you down, fed you things. You didn't freak out. You're healed. You're free. They can't hurt you anymore." Alain gives him an angelic smile, and Pike realizes that his crazy ex must have taken a hefty dose of this or another drug himself.

"Get out of here," he forces out of his throat, which hurts for no definite reason, or at least none he wants to remember. "Get. Out."

Alain struggles to his feet. "You're angry. Ah, don't be, Chris. You'll be fine. Trust me. It's the only thing that ever helped me. Therapists don't change shit. I'm better than them."

"You're mad," Pike mutters, pressing his hands onto his eyes against a sudden onslaught of colors, bright drops hanging in the air in front of him like balloons that pulse in time with his heartbeat.

"No worse than you," Alain says, dressing up in erratic movements. "You'll thank me one day, Chris. Not today, not tomorrow, but you will." He bends over and takes Pike into a shaky embrace, managing to kiss him before Pike can escape the touch.

"Didn't love you back then. I tried but I couldn't, you just never let me in. Tonight, man," Alain says and points his finger at him, "tonight you were perfect. Open and flying, Chris."

Pike shakes his head, a manic laugh tickling in his chest because really, things like this just don't happen to men his age. This is the playground of drunken teenagers, who'd later say _you wanted it too, didn't you_ , not a forty-plus year old stoned ex telling him he's perfect when drugged to the gills and tied up against his will.

Alain pulls on his shoes. "Keep that feeling, Chris. Keep flying. Don't let him pull you down, don't let him win."

"Who's _he_?" Pike asks but Alain has just steps out into the corridor, not hearing his question. He tries to get up from the bed but he can't, his legs on strike. "Alain — who's _he_?" he shouts, his mind momentarily clearing. He'd thought Alain means Esteban but suddenly he doubts it. He remembers something about a report; it must have been his own report, or how could Alain have known all those Narada details he had barely shared with anyone? "You owe me an explanation."

Alain reappears in the doorway. "You'll find out, Chris. You're clever." Then he vanishes again, and seconds later, the main door opens and closes.

"You bastard," Pike calls after him in vain, then curls on the bed, swept away by a sudden rebound of the drug.

*

He wakes up hours later, at a time which he soon identifies as Sunday evening. With effort, he gets to the bathroom, waking up slightly after a slosh of cold water in his face. When he looks into the mirror, he sees a ghostly white face, so he rather looks down on his chest, putting some synthoskin on the deepest, still bleeding cuts with trembling fingers. Then he walks into the kitchen, carefully placing his feet because the floor still seems to tilt at times. There's water and coffee and he's not too sure whether he should be glad when his head clears a little and the memories of the evening return.

If anyone tested his blood right now, he'd be in for a reprimand. Or worse, this would make a perfect headline for the yellow press, " _Admiral caught with illegal drug_ ". Thinking of testing — his medical bracelet is gone. He finds it in the bedroom, cut open although it could've been removed without force. The knife that was used is still on the floor, and Pike picks it up, vaguely remembering the blade on his chest and how strangely unreal and painless each cut had felt.

A sound suddenly tingles in the air, and he needs a moment to locate it. He sits down, accepting the call without visuals.

"Chris, Naaz here. Are you all right?"

"Always," he says, another hysteric laugh threatening to escape and not making it. "Just not looking presentable."

"I'm a little concerned. Seems you're not wearing your medical bracelet?"

"Yes, it got ruined during, uh, sports."

He can positively feel her smirk through the line. "Do you want to get a new one delivered to you or will you come and pick it up?"

He rubs his thumb over one of the cuts on his chest. "I'm busy tomorrow. How about picking it up Tuesday evening?"

"Fine. You should be able to survive without it for a day or two."

The synthoskin on one cut rolls off a little, a smudged red underneath it.

"Really, is everything all right?" Naaz asks again.

"Yes. See you on Tuesday," Pike says and closes the line. The cut bleeds, although it's not very deep and already a few hours old. _Strange_ , he thinks, but then Tom calls and he decides to put another stripe of synthoskin over it and let it rest while trying to calm down his concerned almost-nephew who'd been trying to reach him since Friday. Naaz could always have a look at it in two days.

He's soon in bed again, and the vague memories meld into dreams like black and white chocolate, Alain's self-satisfied smile lingering above it all.

*

When he gets up on Monday morning, the whole mess feels distanced, as if it had happened to someone else. It's a sentiment Pike can run with, considering that he has no inclination to see himself as a victim. He thinks about his resignation during the ride, wondering if _he_ , whoever that guy is specifically (if he even existed beyond Alain's drugged brain), would win if he did, deciding at last that it doesn't matter. He's tired of being the pawn in all of this; this would be the last round of suffering for an organization that had moved away from what he'd seen in it.

Once he's in the office, Pike sends a note to Nogura asking for a personal meeting ASAP, but it's answered negatively with a vague suggestion of an afternoon time. This leaves Pike to live through yet another task force meeting. It's weirdly amusing to discuss topics that he knows will be off his desk by the same time tomorrow, but he doesn't let his decision show through the interaction with his team. He also ignores the looks Esteban throws his way, and gives him the cold shoulder when the captain wants to have a word in private during their short coffee break. There's nothing left to discuss, and he instead focuses on getting some of their tasks off the table; Shaa should see that he'd done good work while he'd lasted, Pike thinks ironically.

The meeting quickly moves along due to Thelin's talent for bringing even the most heated discussion back to the point. It's already twelve-thirty when Pike next looks at the time. He's feeling a little light-headed and is looking forward to a lunch with Asimov that might be their last, so he decides to wrap up the meeting after one more topic.

"I suggest —" he starts and looks up from his PADD, stopping when he notices the others staring at him. At his face, to be exact, and only now does he feel a wetness pooling above his upper lip.

Reflexively, he wipes one forefinger through it, and it comes back bright red.

"I guess that means we need to discuss the last point at another time," Pike says calmly. It's just a nosebleed, why the hell are people staring at him as if he's going to die?

Out of habit he rotates his chair and gets up to show out his visitors, and of course that's a mistake. He doesn't really fall — it's more of a slow slide down until his knees hit the carpeted floor, and he's glad he doesn't crash into the table. His eyes stray downward, and the blood is really damn red on his white-grey uniform while the PADD on the ground next to him flashes in all colors of the rainbow, strangely reminiscent of his drug trip. There's a flurry of activity exploding around him, hands on his shoulders, calls being made, and he makes a dismissive hand-sign, _it's all okay with my brain_ , he thinks, _it's all fine_ , but the words don't come out anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

_"Not as fast as we'd like it. His eyes are open but he doesn't react to external stimuli."_

*

 _"No news from her yet. Maybe it's better, he wouldn't want her to see him like that."_

*

He's floating, weightless and free. His thoughts are shining raindrops, evading when he reaches out for them. Endless shades of white, and maybe there's a fairy in the distance.

 _*_

 _"We'll be waiting here for you when you wake up. I promise, Chris."_

*

 _"I know the statistics myself, Leonard. We're doing our best but he's got to come around on his own."  
_  
*

 _"The apartment has been searched but it's absolutely clean. So far, we've got only his friend's statement that someone else has been living with him."_

*

There are colors and sounds but it's as if they're behind a wall of glass, and he can't reach them and they can't reach him. There's a stirring sensation in his body, once in a while, as if the ground is shaking beneath him, and at one point, it rattles him out of his floating, ending the beautiful nirvana.

He feels his hand and he opens and closes it and he stares into the light and struggles because suddenly he wants to really feel again. There's got to be a way out of the glass walls and he wants to break through…

"Yes, Chris, come on, keep fighting," someone says close to him, not the vague sounds he'd captured once in a while, and he struggles, his hand balling and relaxing, he fights to get a word past his lips, he can speak, he can…

Something touches him. There are more voices and sounds, and it's a little overwhelming so he closes his eyes against the onslaught.

"Come on, Chris, open your eyes again." There are hands on his face, warm and soft, and he obeys.

"Great. You're doing great. You're in Starfleet Medical. You had a stroke but you're going to be fine."

He stares at the woman who talks so familiarly to him.

"Your name is Chris Pike. Say your name. Say it."

He opens his mouth and tries, or _thinks_ he tries but somehow it doesn't work, nothing coming out of it.

"Say: _I'm Chris Pike_. Say it." The woman looks concerned.

"Scans not looking good," someone says quietly, pointing somewhere. "Broca's aphasia — he might not even understand us."

She frowns. "I'm sure he does. Come on, Chris. Say your name."

He takes a deep breath, his left hand curling into the blanket. It feels as if the words should come out any minute, just ready to leave his lips — but then they don't, and he flounders and stresses out.

"It's okay, it's okay," the woman says and there's a hiss of hypo. "Okay. Okay." He instantly feels calmer, more behind the glass wall again. "We're taking it slowly. Everything's fine, Chris. All will be well."

She holds his hand. "I'm Naaz. Do you remember me? I've been your doctor for two years. We've become friends over time. I'm sorry you don't remember that yet, but I'm sure the memories will come back soon. So, could you give me your other hand?"

He stares at her without understanding.

"I've got your left one, see," she holds one hand up, showing it, "and I want you to give me your right one."

"This one," she says and touches it. He looks down at it.

"Can you move it? The fingers, maybe?"

He draws a shaky breath as nothing moves, no matter how much he tries. He isn't fine, he's paralyzed. Someone mutters something and there are more hypos, and she keeps holding his hand, the one hand he feels and can move. A word flutters through the room, _hemiparesis_ and although it doesn't mean a thing to him he feels its weight from the way it's said.

And it suddenly stops making sense, all of this, and he decides that there's really no reason why he should come back to a reality where gravity bogs him down. He smiles as he closes his eyes again, fading out the voices and the words addressed to him as he drifts away.

*

He'd love to go back to the peace he had before; hide out there, keep away from the problems and frustrations that leap onto him the moment the glass wall breaks. But they don't let him get away, push him for so long until he opens his eyes, nods to their questions — all of them, for good measure, it's not as if he even cares to listen.

*

"You're got to talk to someone," a woman — _Nat, Natasha_ — says concerned on the screen. "There are people who believe that you wanted to kill yourself with an overdose of _Dreamweaver_. There are rumors that you torpedoed your own secret project and even rumors that you betrayed the Federation by selling information to the Romulans. We all know it's utter bullshit but you've got to defend yourself, make a statement about Alain." She sighs. "I'll try to be back soon. Please, Chris…"

He closes his eyes and zooms out.

*

"John couldn't make it today," a man says — _Eric_ — "but he'll come soon. I promise. He's doing his best to investigate what really happened. Looks as if someone pulled strings in the background but he's not sure yet who and how." The man's hand is warm on his. "I called you that night but you didn't answer. I wish we had driven over and looked after you. I'm sorry we let you down."

This is all so wrong and besides, John wouldn't come, he just knows.

He's relieved when Eric leaves.

*

"I've got something for you," the white-clad woman says — _Naaz, his doctor_ — and switches on the screen.

"Chris, you wouldn't believe how glad we are that you've woken up," a man says — _McCoy, Leonard_ , _doc_ — the voice full of emotions too complicated to sort out.

"What he says, Chris. You were lucky again; your prospects are good." There's another man and he sounds just as intense.

 _Kirk, Jim, just Jim.  
_  
"Chris, say something," the first man says. "Anything."

 _Luck feels different_ , he thinks. And although he's unsure about the reasons, there's a crushing wave of guilt and pain.

He's done with that. When they sign off, he angles for the special keyboard they've supplied him with, starting to type with his left hand.

`> no more communications`

Naaz shakes her head, her eyes wide and deep. "You can't mean that, Chris. They love you."

`> no more visitors`

"Chris —"

He types along.

`> other institution`

`> new doctor`

"Why, Chris?"

`> reset`

He smiles.

*

"He's not ready to make such a decision," he can hear people argue.

"His statements look pretty clear to me."

Someone visits him and they go through another round in which he types exactly the same orders.

They finally relent and he gets moved. It takes him one day to figure out he's still at SFM, at which point he orders them to contact the lawyer he hasn't needed in a long time.

"I don't know why you'd want that," Whitman Senior says. "But I'll make sure it's done if that's your wish."

`> yes `

*

He has no clue where he is, everyone is new to him, and that's the most refreshing thing. Nobody that comes to him brings any baggage; a clean, new start.

They've got a water tank and it feels like flying.

*

He's not agreeing to any further medical intervention despite getting it pushed at him.

"It needs to be done soon," they say. "There's a short time frame."

It's his decision and he's not going to say yes, not yet, maybe never.

It takes a wonderful morning on which he realizes that he can't even reach far enough to pick a flower from the balcony pots that he agrees on the next steps of therapy.

*

They pull him through two brain surgeries to reduce the paralysis of his right side, and he's able to move his right hand a little after the second one; the speech problem remains.

It feels very different than the last time he went through something similar; maybe because this time, the problem is so one-sided.

He floats around in a new chair and steals flowers from pots. Orange is his favorite color, with white a close second.

*

"Are you done yet?" the doc asks him. Not the real one but a reasonable ghostly remake of the man that sometimes follows him around. "There are people who care for you, even if you don't want to remember that."

 _There are enough people caring about me here_ , he thinks. People who are paid to do that, who don't care who he is, who don't hurt when he hurts. It's a perfect arrangement.

"Bullheaded ignorant," the doc mutters and turns transparent until he's gone.

*

A few officials come and try to talk to him, interview him about the events that had led to the stroke.

 _"Did you take the drug yourself?"_

 _"Who was the man living with you?"_

 _"If you don't answer our questions, there will be repercussions on your future in Starfleet."_

He never replies to any of them. He can fly perfectly by himself. And he starts thinking of riding again, one day.

*

He agrees to another brain surgery that should fix the speech problem, because while silence is a powerful weapon, sometimes it would be really helpful to just drop a word.

It doesn't have any discernible effect. The doctors' faces are frozen in a frown as they stare at his brain patterns, which are brightly colored and strangely cute. He gets some of the pictures printed out and pins them to the walls of his room. It's interesting to look at what makes him tick.

He still takes no visitors.

*

The day the words come back is uneventful; it's as if they've just taken a nap and are now waking up, stretching their limbs and waving at him, willing to get back to work.

He could say coffee but he asks for tea instead.

 _No baggage.  
_  
There are a fair number of words erased from his vocabulary, "have to" right on top. He participates in rehab sessions only when he feels up to it, four on some days, none on the next. His recovery is an intricate path, and the speed always right.

*

The man that climbs up looks sadly real as he takes the other chair on his balcony.

"I've got to apologize," Farnham says. "I was so angry and hurt, I didn't think for a minute that Alain's sudden appearance could have had some well-planned timing behind it. McAllister saw his moment come after your clash with Esteban and it didn't take him long to isolate you from the few people you were friends with. Dael out of the way, me back at work, the _Enterprise_ under radio silence, a bit of manipulation and more spread rumors… If not for Alain, the ploy would've worked, and you would have resigned and handed over your task force. Alain was his helper but also the weakest link in the plan. He mixed much less of the various illegal drugs that were intended to worsen your depression and make you appear unreliable into your food, so you kept working far longer than expected. And in the end, Alain snapped and sent you on that drug trip, ruining everything before leaving for good. Not a trace of him so far."

He stares out into the fields, wondering whether, if he tried hard enough to make John go, his friend would turn as translucent as the doc does. But somehow, it doesn't work.

"McAllister's full confession has rattled Starfleet quite a bit. Nogura has managed to keep his position but has taken quite some flak. Shaa had to leave over the affair with the disregarded complaints and because of her unclear involvement in McAllister's plans, and as far as I can see, nobody has shed a tear over her. Esteban is in charge of the task force for now; they've nicely kept him out of the picture."

He doesn't really want to know any of it, tries hard to zoom out and let John's words become just the gurgle of water under the bridge.

"Though if it were up to me, I'd kick his ass from here to next Sunday." Farnham laughs darkly. "Might be Kirk's job in the end. Even at a distance, your man has put considerable weight behind getting things straightened out in the HQ. But hell, he needs some more politician's genes. The usual problem with you captains, your hero complex makes you move brashly ahead even if strings are better pulled from the sidelines. I've given him a tip here and there but he's a little stubborn at times and likes doing things his way. Reminds me of a certain someone."

Why couldn't John just go away and leave him be? It seems the world manages just fine without him, especially Jim. They all would, now that the cut has been made, neater than anything he could've come up with. No ties anymore. That's how it's been for the longest time; that's what had always worked best for him.

Farnham takes his cup to sip from it, instantly drawing a face. "Fruit tea? What are they doing to you here?" He still takes another sip before putting the cup away and continuing, "In any case, now that things are getting quiet, the only thing everyone's waiting for is your return. And trust me, when you come back, it'll be to a red carpet and everyone wanting to be your best friend, including the press. You're thoroughly acquitted of all sins and failures — that's how it goes. The _Pathfinder_ will launch soon; they'll try to get you attend, I'm sure."

Farnham leans forward. "But you don't really care about it all, do you? Did you even listen to what I said?" His friend sighs deeply, pretended ease suddenly dispelled by graveness, the lines in his face deepened. "Seems you've still lost. You've given up, Chris. Never thought I'd see you do that."

The flower he picks is a fancy violet. He twirls the stem in his fingers — the ones of his right hand, it's a personal challenge — and shrugs.

Farnham smiles sadly. "Thanks for the answer, Chris. Our first communication in two months, that's got to count for something."

It feels much longer than two months. Interesting how slowly time passes when you stop running.

His friend looks out into the fields with him. "Dael's on her way back, you know. And she's got a promise to keep, so you better get ready to join the living again. If for nobody else, you need to do it for her."

The thought of Dael is quite unreal, buried in the calm forest that's grown in his mind.

When he looks up again, Farnham has vanished.

*

There's a PADD on his bed, and for days, he moves it around without looking at it, from the bed to the table to the balcony and back in. Then he switches it on.

He pretends the signs are hieroglyphs, unknown to him — beautiful but alien, not his business.

In the night he dreams about Romulan poems, and the words unfold and fly with him, though they part from him in the morning light.

*

"I told you I'd come back," Dael says, and it's a beautiful apparition that stands before him, shielding him from the sunlight. He squints at her; her hair is gone, her full tattooed glory breathtakingly impressive. She wears a female ensign's uniform in command gold, the skirt incredibly short and her legs incredibly long in the slightly heeled boots. An alien goddess in profane 'fleet attire.

 _Interesting what his mind comes up with at times.  
_  
"Just wait and see." She's gone.

Later he finds another PADD on his bed, and the Romulan words have borne drawings, black lines on white forming patterns that turn to brushfire in his dreams.

*

The walls change, slowly, bearing colors and cornfields and beaches in broad strokes, chasing away his brain pattern. When he looks for long enough, he can feel the wind breathe over his skin.

A couple sits down on a bench and watches the waves rushing against the shore, carrying shells with them that sprinkle the sands with light.

There's a new detail for him whenever he returns from a therapy session, and sometimes it's so small and high up on the wall that he's got to stand up to see it, palms spread out on the slightly wet paint for stability.

It could all be real, but he's not ready for that yet.

*

"You're crazy," he says to the apparition when she sits on the rail of the balcony, naked feet hooked over the wooden piles. Her shirt and shorts are tight, her head still bald. It makes her eyes look twice as large.

If not for the dark lines and his ring on her hand, he'd think Ash had come visiting him from whatever Deltans have as heaven.

"Are you going to keep that up forever?" he asks.

She only smiles and vanishes.

*

Nobody tries to visit anymore, nobody tells him anything new about the world outside; he's as shielded from everything as he wanted to be.

But while he still loves the silence and seclusion, he also gets restless, his mind waiting for something more to see and think about.

He takes up the PADD, trying to get around the illustrated Romulan poem application for a while before outright hacking it, a mess of electronics on his bed when he succeeds in merging the two PADDs to a powerful little comm station that connects to the house's network.

The news is all good and peaceful, and he's satisfied with that for a few days before he understands that he's still locked into his own little world, everything sugarcoated and filtered for him.

He breaches through two other security layers before he can read the real news. It's painful with a side dish of death and he takes very small doses of it, but beyond the screen there are always fields to look at, and they turn a little greener every day.

*

Sometimes he awakes to her sitting vigil in the chair on the other side of the bed. One day, she sits in his floating chair and steals it from under him when he considers using it.

He soon gets tired of the game — he doesn't need that thing anyway, he decides, and marches out of the room with his cane.

Well, his approximation of marching.

*

"I really wish you'd talk to me," he says the next time she appears on his balcony. Her hair has regrown a little, the tiny length making it spikier. "I miss hearing your voice." It's worse now that the doc seems to have joined her in the silence and stopped rambling at him. It starts to get a bit lonely around here.

On the next morning, there's a brush and tubes with paint.

 _Tell me about your mission_ , he writes into the left corner of the beach, draping a few question marks around it.

Little vignettes start littering the edges of the beach. A shadow in a dark ship's observation lounge; two bodies in a playful fight; Romulan signs scrolling over computer screens; a house in a valley; an artist's atelier; a girl's half-profile against the sun; a pointed ear flanking a tattoo; a single fruit on someone's hand. The pictures don't tell a story and they can't; he knows she cannot speak about her mission. It still gives him an idea of where she'd been and what she'd done.

 _I wrote you messages but I deleted them all_ , he writes.

 _You can still write them now_ , he finds below his statement when he comes back from water therapy.

 _I'd rather talk with you,_ he writes. There are things he needs to explain to her, but she escapes him, a ghost drifting in and out of his days with paintings in her trail.

He wonders what he needs to do to break the spell and, having no better idea, takes the brush at last and makes a corner of the wall his own. The cacti are a little too green and the horses really terribly drawn, but it's his own and so he puts two people on those horses, a bright red sun above them.

 _You and I.  
_  
But images aren't his language, and it's the only painting he ever tries.

*

He's almost asleep when she kneels down in front of his bed one night. Her fingers are colored in yellow and green, and he imagines the smell of paint around her, above the spicy scent of her shower gel. She takes away the PADD on which he's been reading an elaborate article on the freedom of choice in Vulcan philosophy, and kisses him on his forehead. Her lips are cool, and she's gone before he can reach out.

"Miss you so much," he murmurs.

"I miss you too," she says, the first words he hears from her since she'd first appeared.

"Don't leave me again."

"I'll stay if you want me. If you really want me to."

"Yes, yes, so much," he mutters, and the mattress dips down a little, the blanket shifting as she lies down next to him. She kisses him again, and this time her lips are soft and warm on his skin.

"Sleep, my lover ," she whispers, and he drifts away with a smile on his face.

*

Dael is curled against him in the morning hour, and it's the warmth of her body that finally proves that this is real.

He'd imagined her moment of return, the speech he'd deliver to make her leave him, but it's impossible now that he feels her heartbeat next to his. Her tattoos burn in his eyes and right through his skull, not for the pain he'd associated with them in the past, but for their incredible beauty, the way they transcend her physical body. She's real and _here_ and Pike cannot fathom what she must have done for him, spending months of her life on gently showing him the way back out of his self-chosen separation.

"Dael…" he says, his voice breaking before he can say anything else, and then she holds him, her embrace his anchor when he starts crying on her shoulder.

*

When the _Pathfinder_ 's launch from Utopia Planitia under the command of Captain Esteban is broadcast on secured 'fleet channels, Pike doesn't watch. Later, people would tell him that Nogura himself had delivered the speech and mentioned him, clarifying that without the work of his _cherished colleague_ _Admiral Pike_ , this project would never have succeeded. They would tell him that he'd been given a standing ovation in absentia, and that Nogura had expressed the best wishes of the admiralty for his speedy recovery and his future return.

But Pike doesn't watch it and couldn't care less; instead, he lies on an absolutely quiet, secluded beach that belongs just to the two of them for the time being, and enjoys a self-prepared fruit drink.

Dael has given him another month in which she's completely his, and he accepts her gift without guilt because he's learned something about choices. She's his companion, his nurse, his secretary, the filter through which he deals with the world. It's less that he can't deal with people than it's a certain kind of complexity he can't deal with. Concurrent, conflicting demands on him make him instantly retract into his unapproachable state. They gently work on changing that, but neither of them is pushing the subject.

Sitting together in comfortable silence has always been an art they manage in perfection, and it's not different in their beach retreat. The food is beamed in, the house kept clean by invisible helpers, his health state tracked by an implant but so far no alert had been raised; it's a modern land of milk and honey that leaves them free to follow their interests.

He's reading a lot about historic events and battles, even dipping his toes into drafting his first scientific publication in decades. She works on coursework for the academy and on translations of Romulan texts for some unnamed organization which he supposes is basically Intelligence, but he doesn't ask.

Aside from exercising his brain with text analysis and his body with swimming and regular visits of the small room with exercise machines, he sleeps an obscene amount of the time. It's a fabulous way to recharge and gives Dael some free time for herself. She seems to spend it mostly with painting, sharing some of the results with him over the weeks. He's happily surprised when she allows him to hang up two of her beach studies in the living room.

*

For quite a few days, what they have is all he needs, and while he wouldn't call himself _happy_ because he's not even sure right now what the word encompasses, he's quite at peace with himself. He absorbs her caring like a dry sponge absorbs water, building up his own mental energy with her help and, when he's ready to face the fact, at the expense of her.

Because there are things he hasn't told her yet that might influence her decision to stay with him. He's not an island, and the time she'd been away had been a kaleidoscope in which not all of his actions were without blemish. They need to talk but he doesn't know where to start, and she'll never ask on her own account. It's blocking him like a solid wall, and may be part of the reason why they haven't had sex again yet. They are like that cup that he'd once smashed in anger; he tries gluing everything together again for her, _with her_ , but not all pieces are on the table yet.

So he starts talking, deep in the same night with the moonlight stealing through the half-open window, because while the thought of her leaving him is unbearable, the thought of her staying with him for all the wrong reasons is even worse.

"There are things you don't know," he says without introduction, one arm around her waist and his mouth close to her ear.

There's a slight change in her breathing, then a little move of her hand as she captures his, lacing their fingers.

"And you think I should know them," she says. He can feel her mood switching from sleepily relaxed to alert in a heartbeat.

"Yes."

There's a deep silence for longer than he can really bear, but then he hears her soft sigh. "You can't just tell me secrets — you can only trade them in."

"Hmm?"

"That's what a good friend always said to me. I was reminded of that lately." She turns around to lie on her side, facing him. They're close enough to see each other, and she leans forward to give him a lingering kiss.

"For every secret you tell me, I tell you one of my own," she says.

"Not sure I can handle that," he says slowly. "But it's only fair."

"Yes. It's about equal burden."

And here he'd thought the idea was to unburden himself. This starts getting complicated, and his willingness to share sharply plummets down.

"Easy," she whispers and combs through his hair. "I — I need this too. There are things I didn't tell you either and they'll keep standing between us if we don't share them."

"I'm egoistic, I know, I just can't…" _spend too much energy on others yet_ , he finishes the sentence in his head.

"We'll try, okay? Your pace. We've got time, we don't have to say it all tonight."

He nods, slowly exhaling and inhaling against her shoulder until he's ready for the first confession. "I slept with a woman. A prostitute. I know I didn't promise anything but… I want you to know."

Dael's soothing caress doesn't falter. "So that's what John didn't want to tell me," she says, sounding almost amused.

"He brought us together. She reminded him of you."

She nods in the dark. "Did she remind you of me too?"

"Yes. She was Half-Deltan; young, bald, thin as paper — and sweet and beautiful. Not just her body, also her soul." He swallows. "She died of cancer. All I've got left of her is a white Origami butterfly that one of her colleagues made as memento. I couldn't help comparing the two of you, and learning about her death made me fear yours a lot more."

Dael leans her forehead against his, cradling his neck with one hand. "Was she the reason for Esteban's —?"

"I don't want to speak about him," he says roughly. He understands that McAllister had been the one who really pulled the strings but Esteban had been the one to erode his position most actively, and remembering that the man had still been given the _Pathfinder_ makes him blindingly angry. An emotion, some stupid therapist might cheer, but not the one he wants to feel.

"Fine. What else did you want to tell me?" she asks, and he's half glad, half sorry that she doesn't want to learn more about Ash.

"I searched your room. I found your drawings, and the old photographs." She freezes in his arm, and he rushes on to explain. "It was on the evening when I learned about your first mission extension. I missed you so much. I wanted to learn more about you, something — _anything_. I know I betrayed your trust. I shouldn't have done it. I'm so sorry." His heart beats harsh and fast, his throat tight as he waits for her reaction. She'd always cherished her privacy, hidden everything from everyone, and why couldn't he wait until she would've been ready?

"I think I already thought that night that you wouldn't come back. It was like… I don't know, it started to become a given, you know? You'd leave me, as I always supposed you'd do, and this was your great chance to go home."

She shakes her head. "Home? The Empire is a lot of things, but not home."

"I read some of your entries in that discussion board. You love Romulans, you love their culture, their art —"

"I love some aspects. I'm not blind to their problematic sides."

"I tried to contact T'Anihl. T'Anihl ch'Retrrln. That's the boy you called T.A., right? The one from Khal'kohachi?"

For a long time, he'd dreamed that she'd love to hear this news — that she'd love him for making this part of her past accessible for her. Her actual reaction now is a big letdown, as she only says, "I know."

"How…?"

"When I was back on the courier ship after my mission, there were a lot of messages waiting for me. One of them was by Nicolai. He wrote me about your language sessions and that you'd tried to contact T'Anihl. I was shocked that Al'Retrrln had lived and died without me seeing him again, but I was ecstatic that T'Anihl seemed within reach. He was everything to me back then — my brother, my best friend… my first love. I wrote a message to him. He wrote back. We talked once over a comm line, but it was nothing like in the past. He knows that my mother worked for Intelligence, and it made our interaction… complicated. If he had known where I'd just been…" She sighs. "It's better to keep the past in the past. T.A died like everyone else. Only the memory lives on."

Pike doesn't know what to answer to the unusual, bone-deep sadness she lets show for once, only wordlessly cradles her in his arms.

"I still don't understand why you searched my room," she says at last, returning to his confession.

"I'm not sure I understand it either."

"I would have shared if you had asked."

"You rarely share anything, Dael, and I didn't know how to ask in the right way when you were here, and there was nobody to ask when you were gone." The pain of the evening is like a washed-out shadow, nebulous and intangible, but he remembers it. It's no excuse, though. "I'd understand if you couldn't forgive me for that breach of trust. I hated myself for it ever after but I couldn't make it undone. Couldn't make the pictures unseen."

"I forgive you if you forgive me." Her voice is flat.

"What for?"

"One of your PADDs didn't lock correctly at times."

He holds his breath.

"I read some of your reports. I read about the Borg. I knew I shouldn't and that it would have major consequences if anyone learned about it but I wanted to know so badly what you worked on… what made you so tense and serious so often, as if the fate of the Federation was at stake. And it is, obviously."

His embrace goes slack. Her confession is nothing he would've expected — he'd given his word to Nogura that she'd be no security risk. He'd vouched for her, and although he'd sometimes compared her assignment with John's job, he'd never actually thought she could betray his trust. But this… is quite unforgivable, as it's not just about him but about the security of the whole Federation.

"You went on an Intelligence mission in the Romulan Empire with knowledge about the Borg?" he asks in disbelief. "How could you even pass the Vulcan security scans?"

"I know how mind melds work. I know how to pass them." She pulls away a little. "Believe me, I regretted my curiosity every single day. But as you said, I couldn't make it unseen."

He's at loss for words.

"I'm sorry I'm not the person you thought me to be," she says throatily, and with a last kiss to his forehead leaves the room, a shirt in hand. Dumbfounded he keeps lying there as her steps first resound from the kitchen, then vanish in the distance as she leaves the house. For a while, he just listens to the sound of the waves, his mind reeling. He should go back behind the glass wall; he's not ready for this world, not for the truths, not for the decisions that would have to come with them. He can't deal with Dael having done this to him, his image of her shattered to a thousand pieces.

Strangely, it's the doc's voice that suddenly chimes up in his head.

 _She's a goddamn kid. Give her some slack. Did you never read things that were forbidden to you?_

 _Yes, but not like this. Not information that could've had such monumental consequences._

 _You think the Tal Shiar didn't have spies on Utopia Planitia already before the Pathfinder launch? You really think they hadn't heard of the Borg before the press caught up with the unusual refits of the ship?_

 _No, I don't. But still, she betrayed my trust._

 _As you betrayed hers. And we're not even talking about Alain here._

 _That's only personal. She could have compromised Federation security._

 _Could have, might have. But the one who was the real security risk was you — depressed and vulnerable. You aimed for the train wreck. What if Alain had worked for someone else?_  
 _  
But he didn't._

 _And she didn't betray anyone, especially not you. And it's not as if you'll ever have 'fleet secrets to spill again, will you?_

 _No._

Pike sharply sits up, half ripping the tangled sheet as it doesn't set him free fast enough. He dresses in shorts, grabs his cane and walks out of the house. The night is rather bright but it still takes him some time to find her on one of the few stones near the water, curled around her folded legs.

She doesn't turn her head as he draws close.

"I'll leave tomorrow," she says tonelessly as he stands beside her.

"No, you won't."

"I'm not taking orders from you."

He backs down instantly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it as an order. I mean it as — there's no reason for you to leave. I don't want you to leave."

She still doesn't look at him as she says, "You don't need to keep me out of pity. I'm able to live my own life by now." Tilting her head, she adds sarcastically, "You don't need to protect me from the dangerous universe outside anymore."

"Pity has never been the point between us," Pike states. "And I'm aware that you changed… grew up, got stronger. And that's good because I'm not strong right now, and I can't protect you. I'm the one who needs you more than you need me, and for all the moments I thought of sending you away for your own good, I learned the hard way that I can't really live without you. You should leave, really you should, but I don't want you to. We've both made mistakes, it's only human. There's that saying about throwing bricks in a glass house, and I'm sorry that I did that."

She gazes at him. "But you were right, my betrayal could've had serious consequences."

"You're talking to the man who worked on highly confidential material while getting drugged by an ex-lover who he _knew_ he shouldn't trust. By all rights, I should be court-martialed."

"You loved him."

"No, I didn't. I needed certain people and couldn't have them, so I took second best. I betrayed you all." He squeezes his eyes shut, fighting the sudden rush of emotions that threaten his hard-won, fragile stability. If he lost her now, after everything…

She slips from the stone and takes him into an embrace. "Shhh, that's not how we think."

"But you should." He inhales shakily, suddenly feeling as if something inside of him shuts down, or maybe breaks open — he's not sure. The ground underneath his feet seems to quake in shifted gravity, a distant echo of his drug trip.

"I'm not worth your love, Dael," he whispers, trying to escape her hold, but she doesn't let him go.

"I consider you worth of my loving, Christopher, and that's all that counts. And they love you too, they love you so much, you know that."

"I thought they'd stopped. I wanted them to. I wanted to be dead to you all."

"You thought we'd be better off without you but we're not. And Leonard will hate me if you have another breakdown, and I really don't want that," she says softly, stopping his emotional landslide with her rational calm. "Come back with me."

He's not quite himself as she maneuvers him inside, only waking up from his dazed state to Dael pulling a blanket over him.

"Don't leave me," he begs and captures her hand, pulling her down on the bed to him. "You're not leaving, right?"

She shakes her head. "No, I'm not."

"Good… good." He tugs her into his arms, crushing her in his embrace until she demands some air to breath. "You wanted to tell me more secrets, didn't you? Tell me now. I'll listen. I promise I'll listen."

"Another day," she whispers, stroking through his hair until he falls asleep. "Another day."

When he wakes up close to midday, she's still there, one hand on him, one holding a PADD for reading. He can't remember every detail from the evening before, but as she looks at him and smiles sweetly, he decides that everything must be good. A surge of love runs through him, stronger than anything he'd experienced for a long time, and he embraces the beautiful feeling. Her body is bed-warm and her skin soft, and he strokes her tattooed chest in sudden need, leaning over to kiss first her lips, then one flat nipple.

She puts the PADD aside without words and runs her hands down his shoulders. He explores her body as if he'd never touched it before, and she welcomes his mouth, his fingers. There's nobody else in his mind as he caresses her with his eyes on her face, meeting her unusually tender gaze. They make love, slowly and carefully, and when they lie together afterwards, he's finally ready to name the feeling inside of him _happiness_.

*

They extend their stay in seclusion. Pike starts reading his personal messages, in very small doses and skipping anything from certain 'fleet personnel, like Nogura. His friends still sound concerned but they all seem to accept his current decision, adding words of praise about Dael's positive influence. He doesn't need their confirmation to know that she's one of the best things in his life but he's glad to find that the time in which he needed to reason with anyone about that point seems to be over.

There's never a word from Esteban.

"Jim and Leonard will be here soon," Dael says one evening in bed, and he nods; while he doesn't receive any official 'fleet messages, the news that the _Enterprise_ is on the way to Utopia Planitia for the planned upgrades has not escaped him.

"They're looking forward to seeing you, but they don't know if they're welcome."

Pike sighs, his heart suddenly heavy. "I want to see them, but I fear I can't handle it."

"Can't handle what, exactly?" she asks.

"The complications… the emotions. The feeling of needing to split myself in two or three parts when we're all together. I want to make it right for everyone, but I know I can't and that's not something I could bear right now. And the last thing I want is that they come and I shut down. It would only hurt them." Just thinking about the scenario quickens his breathing, and there's a light tremble in his body which he unsuccessfully tries to subdue.

Dael listens in silence, and thinks for a moment before she answers, "I see." She rolls over and gently strokes his chest, easing his tension. "So, if we find a way to solve the problem, would you want to see them?"

"Yes," Pike says. "Very much so."

"Then just trust me. We'll find a way." She curls around him and he pushes the topic back in his mind.

*

The beach is flanked by other beaches, this much he knows, but he's glad that they've never met any of the other residents. On this sunny afternoon, though, there's a ball finding its way onto their sands. Dael quickly dresses and goes out to find the reason for this sudden appearance. Pike watches the unfolding scene from the house, how she talks to the two children that emerge from the trees that flank the grounds, and then shows them back to their own beach. She's gone with them for a while, and he'd already made a cup of tea for himself when she returns.

Strange that he'd never noticed before how different she is when she's just been in the company of children. She's still smiling to herself when she walks into the kitchen, her dimples deep and her eyes bright, and the glow stays when she joins him, slinging one arm around his hip.

"Just two kids who lost their way," she says. "Their parents were relieved when I returned them." She sighs a little, between happy and wistful.

"You really like children, don't you?" he asks.

She briefly meets his eyes before her gaze drifts away. "Yes. Children are fabulous… so easy to please, to make happy." She leans her head against his shoulder, tightening her embrace. "Can you imagine having children with me?"

Pike clears his throat. Somewhere deep inside, he'd known that question would arise one day, ever since Kirk had brought up the farm idea; but he already knows that she wouldn't like his answer. "I can imagine raising children with you, but they won't be my biological children."

Her hold stiffens. "What?"

"I'm practically sterile."

"Sterile?" she repeats dumbfounded.

"I got tested while you were away. I couldn't father children without medical intervention, and frankly, I don't care about it. Our children wouldn't have to carry my genes to be my children too."

She draws away, visibly stunned.

Pike reaches out to cup her face, running his thumb over her cheek. "It would have been important to you, hmm? I'm sorry, Dael."

His words break the spell, and she inhales deeply. "I… didn't know that it was that important to me before you said it won't happen."

"That's not an uncommon thing." Pike pulls her close, burying his nose in her hair. "As I said, I'm more than willing to bring up children with you, in any way that counts. Though you should think twice about undergoing such an adventure with a sick man like me, and when your career is just getting started."

She huffs in complaint but doesn't argue his point.

The subject is not brought up again.

*

The days go by without her mentioning the _Enterprise_ men, and it begins to make him nervous. He wants her to be happy, and seeing other people, especially Jim, is a necessary ingredient for that. It's been her decision to stay with him for a while, and he's incredibly thankful for it, but he can't let her share the seclusion he had chosen for his own sanity for too long.

"Are you happy?" he asks one evening when they're in bed, and she turns to him with a bright smile.

"I am, very much so." She leans over to kiss him. "I love you, Christopher. Never forget that."

"How could I?" he says, brushing upwards into her wild hair. "After all you've done for me…"

"You would've done the same for me." She glides her forefinger over his bottom lip. "You already _have_ done that, more than once — been there for me when I needed you. That's what partners are for."

He thinks about asking about their men, but then she gets up on her knees and straddles him, her intentions quite clear as she lays hand on his bulge, and he decides to ask in the morning.

*

The sunrise finds him alone in bed, the curtain slightly moving in the winds that brush in through the open window. There's a smell of coffee in the air, and it's both familiar and strange — they'd never had coffee here, as he'd all but given up on it. The change from their routine brings him out of bed, and he walks through the quiet house into the kitchen with a yawn, wondering what Dael's been up to.

"Good morning, Chris," the man at the table says, and Pike doesn't trust his eyes as his sleepy gaze clears to reveal the doc — _Leonard_ — sitting there in a grey shirt and blue jeans. With trembling legs, Pike makes a side-step and sags against the doorframe for support. His move causes the man to jump up and walk to him.

"Hey, it's supposed to be a happy surprise," McCoy says and takes a steadying hold on him. The hands are warm — everything feels _real_ , nothing transparent and vague about the figure, but Pike still can't quite believe this.

"Dael and Jim have gone on a vacation of their own. If you want to contact her, feel free to use my communicator," McCoy speaks along. "But the girl really could use a break." A soft gaze from green-brown eyes settles on him as the hands on his arms change position, take him into an embrace. The doc's warm breath ghosts over his face as McCoy says, "It's really a shock for you, isn't it? Sorry for that. Should've been more cautious, but I couldn't resist. I hope you like our solution to your dilemma. I'm here for you, all for you, and I'm not going to go away anytime soon. No need to think about the others, they're fine. It's just you and me, just as you wished for in your recording, remember?"

Pike takes some deep breaths, trying to keep from hyperventilating as his mind still struggles to process the information.

"They're fine?" he asks at last.

"Yes, they are," McCoy repeats soothingly. "Very fine, and they'll be back whenever we want them to be."

"And you'll stay here?"

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"Thought we start with a month, see how it goes after that." McCoy pulls closer, his lips brushing over Pike's cheek. His hands slip down, settling on Pike's hips. "I'm all yours, Chris. No need to share with anyone."

When McCoy moves into a kiss, all soft lips and a touch of stubble, Pike is finally ready to accept that this is undoubtedly real, and answers the kiss with all his might.

~~~~~~~~~~

Comments are love :)


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